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by ToxicPineapple



Series: Saimami/Amasai ficlets and drabbles [22]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: (Idk why that wasn't in the tags before), Angst, Angst and Fluff, Anxiety, Character Death, Conversations, Death Threats, Dogs, Fluff, Gen, Guns, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Implied asexual character, Infertile Character, Infertility, Kidnapping, M/M, MTF character, Making noodles, Middle child syndrome, Missing persons cases, Mystery, Nightmares, Not very plot relevant but it's a thing and it matters to me, Original Characters - Freeform, Orphanage, Other Additional Tags to Be Added as story progresses, Poverty, Shuichi keysmashes.jpg, Thriller, Trans Character, chapter six is when shit starts getting real, people are complicated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2020-10-27 08:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 120,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20757119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: His gaze flickers over to Shuichi, but he pulls it away after a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. The detective probably doesn’t even know what to say. What would he say? Any conversation they’d try to make on either end would be awkward at best. Shuichi is perceptive. He’s definitely noticed that Rantaro isn’t feeling very great about all of this.After a moment, though, Shuichi ends up breaking the silence. “Ah, Rantaro, if you’re hungry at all, since the drinks weren’t really any real sustenance, we could-” Only to break off because Rantaro stiffens, and turns his head abruptly in the other direction.Not out of any particular desire to be rude, though. The reason why he turns his head is because someone jogs past him. Someone with green hair.---One by one, the Amami siblings are found.(In other words, Shuichi helps Rantaro to find his sisters, and after that, to find himself too.)---Updates monthly.





	1. Mina Amami

Rantaro’s hand was a lot larger than hers, and a little bit sweaty, but Mina held on as tight as she could as she followed him over to the edge of the square. She silently watched him get up onto his toes, peeking over the heads of all of the people in an attempt to find their parents and their sisters.

“Do you see them?” Mina asked, despite figuring that he would say something about it if he did. After a moment he lowered back down to his heels and loved back at her, shaking his head. He didn’t seem that worried, though. Rantaro got lost a lot, but he was good at finding his way back to where he was before. He’d always had a natural sense of direction. Mina tightened her hold on his hand, because she knew that as long as he was here, she was safe. He squeezed back, smiling at her in that reassuring way that he did, and she felt comforted.

“It’s okay, I think they’re probably on the other side of the square. I didn’t see any green,” Rantaro began, and Mina smiled a bit, because both of them shared the same matcha tea green hair as their father, “But I’m sure they’re there. They wouldn’t leave without us, after all.”   
  


Which, of course, wasn’t entirely true. Mina knew her family wasn’t exactly the prime example of sticking around until all of them were together. They’d already lost ten of her and Rantaro’s other sisters, after all. (The only one of their sisters on the other side of that crowd was Kei, and she was coming down with something. A cold, perhaps.)

At any rate, Mina figured it was fine. Even if Rantaro’s eyes flickered with uncertainty right after he said that. She chose to ignore it, because he was probably right. They wouldn’t leave without Rantaro, she knew that.

“Let’s go, then,” she said nervously, and before they started walking she pulled her hand out from his and wiped it off on her pants, hoping he’d take the hint and wipe his too. (He did, and when their hands linked again, they were pleasantly dry. Mina hoped it would stay that way.)

Without much else to say, Rantaro started into the crowd. America was loud. Mina didn’t really like San Francisco much. Or New York. Or any of the other places here she’d been to. All so crowded and rude and the air was always so charged with profanity. She really wasn’t a city person. She supposed she had the skills to be, but she didn’t like thinking about living in the city forever. Ideal situation for her would be getting a house in the mountains or something with a hubby, far away from all the hustle and bustle of city life.

Though, Mina was only thirteen, so those kinds of things were just speculation. She squeezed Rantaro’s hand even tighter and he reciprocated again, but she hoped that it wasn’t getting annoying, because she really was squeezing his hand a lot.

A large man bumped into her, and Mina recoiled, almost tasting the smell of cigarettes which washed over her like a wave in the ocean the second her face made contact with his arm. The stranger mumbled a gruff apology and shoved his way past her- breaking her grip on Rantaro’s hand as he went by.

Mina stumbled, panicked a little, and gasped, “Rantaro!”, but the second her hand slipped from his he disappeared into the crowd, and she tried getting up on her tip toes to see him, but she wasn’t tall enough. The masses of people were too thick, and it was too loud, and she felt overwhelmed. The crowd pushed her along, away from him, and she tried to worm her way in between the people, but her pounding heart and aching head from the stink of cigarettes were distraction.

“Rantaro,” she tried again, but there came no response. He probably thought she was right behind him. Mina swallowed dry, trying very hard not to panic. If she panicked, she wouldn’t be able to do anything. Just get through the people to your family, it’s that easy.

She tried to turn her body the way she thought Rantaro had been going. When she was certain she was facing the right way, she started pushing between people with more urgency, fighting and fighting and fighting until- she burst through on the other side of the crowd.

The crowds were thinned here; there was still a generous amount of people standing around, but not nearly as many as in the actual square. Mina wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, knowing her face was ugly and flushed and probably twisted in frustration, and began to look around for her family. For the green hair that marked them as hers.

They weren’t there, though. Mina turned around, looking back at the crowds, and wondered if she went to the wrong place But no, this wasn’t where she was before- this was definitely where Rantaro was going! Wasn’t it? Did they take off? Did they leave? No, usually Rantaro would stick around to look for her, wouldn’t he?

But what if they didn’t notice, like with Rui? What if… did they leave?   
  


Mina swallowed again, blinking back tears, and shook her head. No way, no way. If they left, they- they couldn’t have gone far. She’ll just find them. Which way would they go? She looked around furiously and found the path to the sidewalk. That had to be it. Her gut told her to go there. She didn’t have the same instincts are Rantaro that led him to the right places, but… she had to try.

  
Sucking in a deep breath, Mina clenched her fists, imagining Rantaro’s hand was still in hers, and took off sprinting down the sidewalk.

\---

_ “Just off the plane, huh?” _ On Rantaro’s phone screen, Mukuro smiles wryly, and the former Ultimate Adventurer hums out an affirmation, yawning as though to prove his point.

“We should’ve caught a flight that doesn’t come in so early in the morning.” He mumbles. As if that would’ve made a difference. But usually jetlag doesn’t affect him so bad. Perhaps it’s just the immediate transition from graduation to traveling to San Francisco that’s got him so exhausted. Mukuro’s smile is more amused than sympathetic though, so he manages a smile of his own in response, rubbing his eyes. “I’m so tired. Shuichi’s in the shower right now, but when he gets out I think I’m just going to do the teddy bear thing and fall asleep.”

_ “Where are you staying? That doesn’t look much like a hotel.” _

“Shuichi’s dad has a place in San Francisco that he offered to let us stay at during our time here,” Rantaro explains. “It’s nice, wait,” he picks up the phone and pans it around the room he’s in to show Mukuro the lavishness of their current accommodations. “Tsumugi and Kaede are sharing a room down the hall, so that’s pretty cool too.”

_ “Convenient that Kaede’s first stop on her tour is a place where one of your sisters got lost. Mina, right?”  _ Mukuro asks, and Rantaro nods. It’s hardly even uncomfortable discussing it anymore- at least, not with Muku. It can be awkward whenever Kokichi brings it up sometimes. Secrets kept for a long time are usually like that. But it was definitely Mina who was lost here. (Rantaro can still feel her hand in his sometimes, the exact moment when it slipped out from his, and he thought she only did it because he was sweaty.)  _ “You’ll find her soon. If not this time, next time.” _

Rantaro shrugs. “I don’t know. We stayed there until the square was completely empty and she was just… gone.” He sighs again, even though he doesn’t really want to get into this right now. It’s probably a good idea to change the subject. “You look pretty tired yourself, y’know.”

_ “Ugh, yeah, my current assignment is kicking my ass.”  _ Mukuro stretches on the phone screen, and Rantaro’s lips curl into a grin. She can be really funny when she’s relaxed. Presumably right now is one of those moments.  _ “Some asshole higher up was like, hey. Mukuro seems happy with her job. Let’s give her a hard assignment and watch her perish.”  _ She sighs.  _ “I’m not here to complain about it, though. Especially when you’re so tired.” _

“What’s the assignment?” Rantaro asks, then adds, “If you don’t mind my asking, of course- I get that you have some top-secret stuff going on over there.”

_ “Yeah. The kind of top-secret that you can’t even share with friends. Or boyfriends,”  _ she adds thoughtfully, perhaps thinking of Makoto. The two of them seem to have a great relationship still, though, so Rantaro isn’t too worried about it.  _ “Anyway, I can’t tell you too much but I can say that I’m going after a cult right now. Based in the Philippines, I think? Or at least, there’s a lot of activity there.” _

“You’re going after a cult?” Rantaro raises his eyebrows. “Isn’t your time more valuable than that? Cults are everywhere.”

_ “Oh, if it was a regular cult I’d say the same thing.”  _ Uh, define regular cult.  _ “But this one… okay, you know how Maki was made an assassin by this one cult as a really young kid? The guys I’m after do the same thing, but they kidnap like, five year olds, and they have a shit ton of power. I’m talking international scale here, as in, it’ll take a lot more than just me sneaking in, killing a bitch, and sneaking out.”  _ Mukuro poofs out her cheeks.  _ “I’m not being paid enough for this.” _

“You’re being paid a fair amount, I thought-”

_ “It’s a joke, senor,”  _ Mukuro interrupts, in English with a perfect Californian accent, and Rantaro chuckles at her, shaking his head. Some things never change. The door to the bathroom swings open and Shuichi emerges, using a towel to dry his hair and wearing nothing but a large t-shirt and presumably a pair of boxers. Rantaro glances at his boyfriend, catches the refreshed smile shot his way with a smile of his own, and on screen, Mukuro rolls her eyes.  _ “Go, do the lovey dovey thing. I don’t wanna see that.” _

“Where’s  _ your  _ boyfriend? Shouldn’t you be cuddling with him right now?”

Mukuro hangs up. Rantaro starts to laugh but plugs his phone in to the wall, deciding that he’ll text or call her sometime later. In the meantime, though, Shuichi tosses his towel to the side and walks over, flopping down on top of the comforter at his boyfriend’s side.

Rantaro chuckles, and remarks, “You’re going to get the pillows all wet.” In reply, Shuichi mumbles something that sounds vaguely like  _ piss off  _ (though is probably something else because the detective isn’t known to cuss much) before grabbing at Rantaro’s sleeve and tugging him to lie down beside him. “I haven’t showered yet,” the adventurer remarks, and Shuichi slides his arms around his chest, so, that settles that.

As Rantaro gets comfortable, breathing in the pleasant smell cinnamon that’s so strong in the air right now, he wraps an arm around Shuichi’s shoulders, pulling him closer, and the black-haired man nuzzles his face into Rantaro’s neck, a low hum sounding in the back of his throat that vaguely resembles a purr. “What time should we be up tomorrow?” He asks quietly, and is thankfully more coherent than he was a few moments ago.

“Hm.” Rantaro hums in response, thinking about it. He’s honestly so tired, his brain feels a bit muddled, but he figures he might as well try to come up with an answer. “Maybe around nine? We can stop by a cafe tomorrow morning with Kaede and Tsumugi before they head to check out the venue that Kaede will be playing at this week.”

“Mmmkay.” Shuichi mumbles. “Wake me up.”

“Why ask if you’re going to tell me to wake you up anyway?” Rantaro asks, frowning playfully, and the detective grumbles, which, point taken. The green-haired man presses a kiss to the crown of his head and settles back into the pillows, closing his eyes and quickly slipping into a doze. Shuichi’s pretty much radiating heat and since he was already exhausted before he really doesn’t stand a chance of staying awake right now. It’s all good. Rantaro makes sure to thoroughly absorb the moment before drifting off into dreamland. As one should always do.

When Rantaro wakes up again, Shuichi’s face is still tucked into his shoulder, his chest rising and falling with peaceful, even breaths, and he turns his head to glance at the clock on the nightstand.

Eleven o’clock. Fuck.

\---

Mina rested her head against the wall, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“You’ve got a job interview tomorrow, right?” She cracked her eyes open at the sound of Oliver’s voice; looked over and met his gaze. He was an American, obviously, but Mina wasn’t very good at telling American accents. She knew, though, that he wasn’t from California. His inflection was a lot lazier than most of the homeless people she knew, and the vast majority of them used to have homes in this area. Oliver was older than her- a lot older, maybe twenty or thirty years, and she was wary of him at first, but he mostly just hung around to watch after her, it seemed.

He hasn’t done anything sketchy for the past year that she’s been living on the street, after all. “Yeah,” she nodded her head, and even though her Japanese accent was slowly dying from all the time she’d spent disguising it, she allowed her voice to relax, because Oliver knew that she wasn’t from around here. He even knew she was fourteen, not nineteen, like she was telling everybody.

“You have a job already, right?” He inquired, tilting her head and scratching at the stubble that grew almost to his neck. Mina shot him a wry smile. He knew why she was trying to get a second job. She’d been working at a cafe for a while- almost half a year by then- and saving up the whole time, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted an apartment. And rent was too expensive for this to cut it. At least it was in San Francisco. She considered, for a time, finding somewhere cheaper, but… at least in San Francisco she had Oliver on her side. If she went somewhere else, she’d have nobody.

(Besides, she couldn’t go anywhere, not when Rantaro was coming for her. This was a temporary thing. She just had to survive until then.)

“Where’s this one at?” Oliver continued, and Mina drummed her fingers on her knee for a moment before picking at a couple loose threads on her jeans. Thrift stores in the area actually had remarkably nice clothing for really cheap. Enough, at least, to make her seem like someone living in a house. Showering and doing the laundry was harder, but she got by going to public pools and laundromats. She was okay. But she needed an apartment.

“It’s a fast food chain,” Mina explained. “Not a very big one, but it pays reasonably. I think if I get the job and work both jobs for another three months, I’ll be able to get an apartment.”

Oliver hesitated. “A kid like you working two jobs?”

Wryly, Mina said, “It’s not like I’ve got a school to be going to. Besides, they think I’m nineteen.” She shrugged, and he eventually sighed, nodding. Oliver was weird. Not always much for conversation, though he did try pretty hard to engage with her. He was nice. When he first started hanging around Mina wasn’t really sure why, but it seemed as though he was just been doing it so that he could keep an eye on her. Without him around, she wouldn’t have survived for sure. And even if he was awkward sometimes, it would’ve been super lonely without him. “When I get a place, what’ll you do?” She asked, and he glanced at her.

His eyes were blue, a pale greyish blue that seemed glass-clear in the sunlight. A crooked smile lifted his lips and Oliver shrugged. “Who knows?” He asked, and Mina smiled too, more genuinely than before, and nodded her head, because he was definitely being honest with her. Who knew where he would go? Even if he was planning on going somewhere, it wasn’t as though telling her anything would make it more set in stone.

\---

“You two are disasters.” Kaede smiles as Rantaro hops the last couple stairs, pulling a jacket over his shoulders. He shoots a pout her way but drops it after a moment to return a good-natured smile, because she’s not exactly wrong. Tsumugi waves at him, from where she’s making something in the kitchen. She’s probably making lunch for her and her girlfriend. Behind him, Shuichi’s socked feet pad down the stairs, and he glances over his shoulder to watch his boyfriend pull a beanie over his hair, which is still messy from sleeping without drying it first.

“Edgy,” Rantaro remarks, gesturing at Shuichi’s band t-shirt.

“Shh.” The detective returns, and unties his sweatshirt from his waist to pull it on. He’s wearing almost all black, and it’s pretty warm out, but Rantaro’s like eighty percent certain that Shuichi’s an emo, so, that’s fair. “Where are we headed first?” He asks, and reaches out to take Rantaro’s hand.

“The square,” he answers, squeezing Shuichi’s hand before pulling him towards the door. The detective grabs a set of keys off the table by the door and steps into his shoes at the same time as Rantaro does, humming. “As usual,” Rantaro adds with a wry smile.

“Okay, you know what,” Shuichi starts, and Rantaro lets out a laugh as his boyfriend turns his head. “Tsumugi, he’s bullying me.”

“Rantaro, stop bullying him.” Tsumugi replies immediately.

“Hey, wait,” Rantaro laughs, even though he’s trying to look indignant. “This is favouritism.”   
  


“You’re being emophobic.” Tsumugi hums, shooting a smile over her shoulder to show that she’s not really being serious. But it’s hard to tell with her, sometimes. Rantaro returns the expression anyway, and watches the cosplayer turn back to the stove. It seems that she’s making grilled cheese, from the smell of melted cheddar and butter wafting towards them. It’s a pleasant smell, but Rantaro doesn’t really wanna smell like cheese right now, so he unlocks the door and starts to move out.

“It’s okay, Rantaro,” Kaede is saying. “We can be normies together.”

  
“I’m not a normie!” Rantaro protests.

“I love you,” Shuichi says, and Rantaro curses the way that still makes his heart speed up. “But you are absolutely a normie, Rantaro.”

“You’re siding with them! I can’t believe this! I thought we only bullied Kokichi in this house!”

“He’s not here to bully, though.” Tsumugi points out. “Be back by five so we can go to Kaede’s performance, yeah?”

“Got it,” Shuichi calls out. “I’ll keep an eye on the time this time, since Rantaro overslept.”

“Hey!”

They’re both still laughing as they exit the house. Shuichi briefly releases Rantaro’s hand to lock the door behind him before sliding the keys into his pocket and intertwining their fingers once again.

From there, despite the bright and amused air that’s hanging over them, they slip into a comfortable silence. The sidewalk is new and clean underneath Rantaro’s feet; all the houses they’re passing are large and nice and the lawns are nicely manicured and bright green. It’s a nice sight, but very incredibly American. This is a nice area, at any rate. No wonder Shuichi’s father would want to have a place here. (Rantaro takes a large step over a puddle on the sidewalk that’s being made by the sprinkler in one of the yards they pass.) The whole area radiates  _ American summer  _ in a way that’s difficult for Rantaro to describe.

It’s funny, if nothing else, so he doesn’t comment on it.

The two of them head out into town, and it isn’t long before Rantaro starts to recognise his surroundings. Shuichi is blinking around with familiarity, too- likely because the last time they were here they combed the area up and down, but of course their search didn’t yield any results.

Underneath their feet, the pale grey concrete turns into burgundy cobblestones, and when Rantaro scuffs his shoe against the ground, the click it makes is sharper against the stone. He smiles slightly, but he’d be lying if he said it was a genuinely happy smile. When he lifts his head again, his eyes flit from one side of the space to the other, and- they’re standing in the square again.

He tightens his hold on Shuichi’s hand, imagining for a moment that it’s Mina’s.

“You alright?” The detective asks, nudging him with his shoulder. Rantaro sucks in a breath. They’ve been here before. He needs to get over himself.

“Fine. Let’s start looking, yeah?” He turns his head and offers Shuichi a grin. The black-haired man looks at him for a long moment before nodding, letting Rantaro off the hook. The adventurer releases a breath, and with nothing else to discuss, they start to search.

\---

“You always work so hard,” Mina glanced over her shoulder to see who had spoken, smiled a bit when she met Alyssa’s brown eyes, but eventually looked back to the table she was wiping down. It was stained from years of mistreatment, and she wanted to make it look nice. An arbitrary thing to wish for, she supposed, but it felt significant to her. Being in San Francisco for three years, she’d begun to feel as though she had to hold on to those things. The small ones that didn’t mean so much to other people. “Doesn’t it get exhausting?”

“Don’t I look exhausted?” She joked, shooting her coworker a wry grin, and Alyssa laughed, shaking her head a bit.

“You look fine,” the woman assured, and Mina appreciated the sentiment, but she refrained from commenting. She rubbed circles into the table with her dishrag, and though she couldn’t really see or even feel it happening, she could almost sense the skin on her fingers pruning with the diluted bleach on the towel. A quick break allowed her to flex her fingers before she went back at it, massaging the bleach water into the dark mahogany of the table. “Don’t worry about that. But what’s got you working so hard all the time? You’re probably the most driven person I know who’s your age.”

_ Yeah, well,  _ Mina thought.  _ I’m not really the age you think I am.  _ She didn’t say that, though. She just shot Alyssa another smile, this one more flattered than the one before, and finished wiping down the table. “I’m trying to save up for something.” She admitted, walking back over to the counter to drop the dishrag into the sink. She’d deal with it in a moment, but for that moment, she needed to go change the open sign to closed before they got any last-minute customers. They were about ready to close up, and everything was set up that way, but something Mina learned rather quickly in this country was that people don’t really care much about courtesy here. If they  _ can  _ make someone’s life more difficult, odds are, they will.

“Yeah? For what?” Asked Alyssa, perhaps unaware how sensitive a question that was. Mina didn’t mind it, though. She was a bit flattered by the genuine interest and curiosity in the other woman’s voice. Swiftly, the green-haired girl flipped the sign and waved at one of the people passing by on the sidewalk as she started closing the blinds. “Got any ambitions I don’t know about?”

“Not really,” Mina laughed a bit, and it was true. She didn’t really have any ambitions that Alyssa didn’t know about- she didn’t have any ambitions at all. Right then her only goal was to get back to Japan. To her brother. “It’s a bit silly, but,” she paused, wondering how much of the truth she could actually tell. Wondering why she was even considering being honest to begin with. Alyssa was an older sister, apparently- it showed through the way she interacted with all of her coworkers. Perhaps that was just the kind of personality she had. “I’m sort of waiting for somebody,” she settled upon, grabbing a broom from the wall.

Alyssa raised her hands up, as though offering to catch, so Mina tossed over the dustpan, and together they started to sweep the cafe. “For who? A boyfriend? A girlfriend?”

“God, neither of those things,” Mina snorted, shaking her head. She’d never even thought of romance before- certainly not in this context. She didn’t even think it was something she was really capable of, romantic attraction. “My brother.” She elaborated, and wondered again if that was the right thing to say. Was it a good idea to tell Alyssa about Rantaro? But the other woman didn’t seem judgemental, only a bit intrigued, so she felt compelled to continue. “My family lives in Japan. I’m sort of waiting for him to come and get me,” she explained awkwardly, then added, “But in case that falls through, I’m saving up so I can go to them myself.”

“Kinda expensive to save up for tickets to Japan on minimum wage, huh?” Alyssa frowned, sympathy lining her expression, and Mina smiled a bit, though she would be the first to admit that the smile was more chagrined than much else. She wasn’t offended to be receiving sympathy; Alyssa didn’t mean it in a condescending way. It was just that she was right. And there was more that she had to think about than just tickets to Japan. There was the whole matter of getting a passport and dealing with airport security and all that. She wasn’t exactly a citizen of the United States. Being deported would be fine, except, well, it wouldn’t, at all.

Even if she did manage to get past the airport,  _ finding  _ her family would be a pretty big deal. Not everybody had green hair, of course, but… it was something she had to consider nonetheless. Japan was big. Tokyo was big. She would have to save up a lot, and think a lot, and plan a lot. And she had been. But not enough yet. “I think Rantaro will come back for me before it comes to that.” She assured, smiling, and a large part of her agreed. The part that didn’t was tiny enough that she could squash it down without thinking. Rantaro was obviously coming. Why wouldn’t he?

“Rantaro, huh?” Alyssa asked. “That his name?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mina chuckled, a bit embarrassed. “Sorry, I said it without thinking.”

“Forget about it, you don’t have to hide anything from me. It makes me feel warm hearing you talk about it, y’know? You’ve got a lot of faith in your family.” Alyssa told her with a smile. “That’s admirable, I wish I had that.”

“Thank you, that means a lot,” Mina said, a bit taken aback by the compliment. “I’ve… never been told that before.”

“Really?” Alyssa raised her eyebrows. “I thought that would’ve been a given.”

Mina supposed she was right.

\---

At around two o’clock, Shuichi and Rantaro head in to a cafe a mile or so away from the square. They strayed a bit far from the place where Mina was lost, but it’s not a huge deal. It’s more than likely that Mina went somewhere sufficiently far away from the square, or else they would’ve found her already.

That’s the part that’s worrying Rantaro the most, at the moment. Mina was one of the sisters who was biologically related to him- which means nothing, of course; he loves all his sisters equally- but the fact that they have the same green hair should make her easier to find. Yet he hasn’t seen so much as a hint of her presence. He knows she’s out there, because she’s got to be. She was lost when he was fifteen, after all, and he’s nineteen now- she’s only been gone for four years. But where could she have gone?

“Hm.” One of Shuichi’s hand places itself on the side of Rantaro’s face, his thumb brushing under the adventurer’s eye and relaxing the crease between his brows. (Obligingly, Rantaro leans into his boyfriend’s hand.) “You look worried.”

“I’m just thinking.” Rantaro says quietly, and the detective raises his eyebrows but gives a smile anyway as they walk up to the counter. It’s a nice cafe, the ambiance is quiet and the music is obscure. At least, obscure enough that Rantaro’s never heard it before. He would definitely consider spending more time here if he lived in San Francisco. The smell of coffee is rich and pleasant.

There’s a woman working at the counter- her hair is auburn and tied out of her face in a messy bun, eyes brown and a bit tired, her nose and cheeks dotted with freckles. She’s pretty, but seems a bit tired, despite the smile lines creasing her face around her eyes. Her nametag reads  _ Alyssa,  _ and Rantaro makes note of that as she stops messing with the monitor to greet them.

For some reason, when she sees Rantaro, her gaze lingers on him for a moment before she fixes a smile and speaks. “Afternoon sirs, what can I get for you today?” She asks, resting one of her elbows on the counter.

“Ah, uhm… a sixteen ounce mocha, please?” Shuichi’s voice lilts with uncertainty but his English is getting a lot stronger. At least he knows what a sixteen ounce is. The detective’s grey eyes flicker back to meet Rantaro’s and he hums in response, looking up at the menu.

“A sixteen ounce iced passion fruit tea for me, please,” Rantaro smiles gently, and the woman behind the counter, Alyssa, nods as she gets a couple cups, writing on them with a sharpie.

“You really are a normie,” Shuichi comments with a roll of his eyes, and Rantaro huffs, reaching out to ruffle his boyfriend’s hair. “That’s a low blow,” the detective grumbles, ducking his head, but it only makes Rantaro laugh and snatch his beanie to mess up his hair some more. It’s still just a little cool from the shower, and softer than usual. The smell of shampoo is stronger when he does this at this distance. After a moment he lets up and places the beanie back on his boyfriend’s head, but not until Shuichi’s cheeks are thoroughly red and he’s pouting with his eyes as well as his lips.

“Are you two paying together?” Rantaro nods before Shuichi can say anything. “Your total is eleven forty five, can I get a name for your order?” Alyssa asks as Rantaro slides a twenty across the counter.

“Rantaro,” he replies, and Alyssa stares at him, her sharpie frozen in midair. “Uhm, is something wrong?” He asks, a bit uncomfortably.

“Sorry,” she stammers out, looking back at her cup to write on it after a moment. “It’s just- do you have a sister, by any chance? Green hair like yours? Named Mina?”

When she says that, Rantaro feels his heart rate spike. He doesn’t even have time to process the way that Shuichi gasps as he leans forward, looking at Alyssa across the counter. “Yes,” he answers, a bit breathlessly. “I’m looking for her, is she here?”

“W-Well,” Alyssa stutters, perhaps a bit flustered by the sudden close proximity. (Oops.) “She used to work here, but she quit a while ago- I think I know where she’s working now, though? Or where she was working, back before she quit?”

She looks nervous, and Rantaro feels bad for being so overbearing, but all he can think is  _ Mina is seventeen why is she working why  _ was  _ she working how long has she had a job is she okay why did she work in a place like this if she was working the other job before she quit this one does that mean she had two jobs why did she have to have two jobs  _ and then Shuichi’s hand is on his arm and he remembers to calm down.

In a choked voice, he manages to say, “That would be great, thank you,”

And Shuichi adds, “Keep the change, miss.”

\---

“Are you sure he’s coming for you?” Ashleigh was Mina’s friend, but she was cynical too, and the comments were a bit overwhelming sometimes. She glanced over to where the other girl was messing with her cuticles, frowned when she saw her friend wasn’t even looking at her. But she couldn’t really be blamed for being a bit skeptical. It had almost been four years, after all. “It seems like a long time to spend waiting, y’know, in a foreign country.”

“He’s coming.” Mina insisted. “I know he is.”

\---

_ She doesn’t work here anymore,  _ is the first thing the man said when Rantaro and Shuichi came. The second thing he said was,  _ Sorry, are you a family member of hers? You have the same hair. _

And yeah, obviously, but that didn’t matter. Neither he nor Shuichi have said anything since they left. The sudden burst of hope that Rantaro got when Alyssa did that double take at the cafe has started to wear off by now.

Of course she doesn’t work there anymore. What was he expecting? Of course her old boss doesn’t have her information, doesn’t know where she is now. That’s just the way the world works. Rantaro briefly closes his eyes and swallows down an ugly feeling that was starting to claw its way into his chest. He can’t be too torn up about this. Things always go this way, and being visibly upset will only serve to worry Shuichi. He can’t let himself be super disappointed over another failure.

Maybe it’s just the getting hope part that upsets him.

They continue down the sidewalk. This one is a lot dirtier than the one on the block of that house that Shuichi’s father is letting them stay in. Probably more what Shuichi’s used to. San Francisco is quite the city. Usually walking around in Japan with their hands linked like this will get some weird looks thrown their way, if not ugly comments or slurs or worse. But here people have just shot them smiles, if nothing else. There are other same-sex couples walking around too, hand in hand, and pride flags hanging up in the windows of small businesses and next to the American flags on houses, and Rantaro wonders for a long moment what it would be like to live in a country where gay marriage is legalised across the nation.

He extinguishes the thought after a moment. Now is hardly the time. His gaze flickers over to Shuichi, but he pulls it away after a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. The detective probably doesn’t even know what to say. What would he say? Any conversation they’d try to make on either end would be awkward at best. Shuichi is perceptive. He’s definitely noticed that Rantaro isn’t feeling very great about all of this.

After a moment, though, Shuichi ends up breaking the silence. “Ah, Rantaro, if you’re hungry at all, since the drinks weren’t really any real sustenance, we could-” Only to break off because Rantaro stiffens, and turns his head abruptly in the other direction.

Not out of any particular desire to be rude, though. The reason why he turns his head is because someone jogs past him. Someone with green hair.

\---

“When you were growing up,” Mina began curiously, tilting her head and looking over at Oliver. She almost had enough to get an apartment, but not yet. He looked back at her when she spoke, raising his eyebrows. “What did you do in your spare time?”

“Feeling bored?” Oliver asked.

“Not really,” she shrugged. “I’m just wondering is all. Also, I guess I could use some new downtime activities.”

“It might not be the right definition of downtime activities,” Oliver chuckled. “But when I was younger I was on the cross country team at my high school. I liked running. It helped me take my mind off of things. That could be beneficial to you.”

“Running?” Mina made a face. “Who runs for fun? Do you actually  _ like  _ the feeling of your lungs burning?”

“Not always.” Oliver gave her a look that was halfway between a smirk and a patient smile. “But sometimes the burn can be nice. Satisfying.”

“Ew.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

(And Mina did try it. She liked it, too.)

\---

The jogger who runs past him- her hair is the same shade as his, matcha green and straight and shiny, tied up in a ponytail high on her head. She’s about Shuichi’s height, and Mina was definitely shorter but things change in four years. Especially between ages thirteen and seventeen.

And it might just be a crazy coincidence. Some stranger who just looks like her. But after everything… Rantaro’s not losing her in any more crowds.

“Mina!” He yells, and the girl keeps running, and he freaks for a minute before realising she has earbuds in. Of course she doesn’t hear him. A moment later she disappears into the crowd, but he’s not gonna lose sight of her that easy. “I- fuck, I need to go after her,” he looks at his boyfriend.

The detective huffs, releasing his hand and giving him a nudge. “Go, then! You’re losing her!” He instructs, and with that he turns and tears off into the crowd in the direction that his sister might have gone.

He’s not even sure that it’s her. But his heart is pounding, and there she is again, running across the street, and the light is blinking red, and he gets to the curb just as the other light turns green and cars start to drive by.

She’s going to run away. Rantaro’s chest is aching, both from the running and from the sudden spike of fear of losing her, and there’s nothing else he can do but yell out her name again.

“Mina!  _ Mina!  _ Hey-” he cups his hands around his mouth again, and she’s about to run off, but then-

One of the other people on that side of the street puts a hand on her shoulder, and she tops, taking out one of her earbuds and looking at them. From the side, Rantaro can see the small beauty mark on her jaw, and his eyes sting, because it’s  _ her-  _ and the person over there points at him, and she turns, and-

“Rantaro!” She yells out, and he blinks back tears, unable to stop from smiling like an idiot.

There’s a long, awkward moment while they wait for the light to turn green again, but when it does, Mina bolts across the street, and Rantaro contemplates running out to meet her but decides that running into the middle of the street might be a bad idea, so he waits, and spreads his arms, and then Mina jumps and throws her arms around his neck.

Rantaro staggers back- he wasn’t quite as prepared to catch her as he thought he was, but-  _ fuck. _

“I knew you were coming.” Her voice is muffled against his neck. “I knew- oh my god.”

He screws his eyes shut and ignores the burn of tears in favour of hugging her back, as tight as he can without hurting her, and burying his face in her shoulder. She’s here. She’s-

She’s  _ okay. _

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, and Mina pulls back a bit, despite the fact that she’s pretty much clinging to him like a koala. “I took so long, and Alyssa said you were working two jobs, and- I’m sorry,” he repeats, feeling stupid and incoherent. Mina smiles at him though, and wipes tears from his cheek, and shakes her head.

“I’m okay.” She says quietly. “And you’re here. You found me. It’s okay.”

God.

Footsteps behind him. Rantaro turns his head and watches Shuichi bend over at the waist, catching himself on his knees to suck in a few deep breaths before straightening up. His face is flushed and he looks totally winded but there’s a bright look in his eyes that Rantaro is certain is reflected in his own. The detective beams.

“You got her.” He manages through a breathes, and Rantaro nods.

“Yeah. Shuichi, this is Mina.” Mina drops down onto the ground, on her own feet, and pulls out of the hug to properly look at Shuichi. “And Mina, this is Shuichi, my, uhm, boyfriend.”

“Uhm?” Shuichi raises an eyebrow.

“Oh? Boyfriend?” Mina’s lips curl up into a smirk. “I didn’t know you had a type for emos.”

“Wow! Does emophobia run in the family?” Shuichi asks, thoroughly affronted. His expression softens when Mina starts to laugh though, softens into something more fond, and Rantaro knows right away that they’re going to get along. “I’m glad to meet you, Mina,” he tells her, and she beams at him.

“Me too. You were helping him look, right?” She asks, and when Shuichi nods, Mina throws her arms around him, too. The detective is clearly taken off guard, but he hugs her back, a bit startled. “Thank you. Rantaro’s stupid and he blames himself for things.”

“I’m right here,” Rantaro reminds her.

“He is.” Shuichi agrees.

“Hey! What is this?” Rantaro pouts.

“Okay.” She pulls out of the hug. “Okay, uhh, can you come with me to my apartment? I’d like to pack up my stuff and be out of here and all that but- y’know. It would suck to lose you again.” Mina shifts from one foot to another, and Rantaro is already nodding before he can even think about what she’s saying.

“Of course, we’ll help you pack,” Rantaro tells her, and Shuichi nods, a small smile touching his expression.

“You can come with us tonight, too. Our friend Kaede has a piano performance here.”

“Kaede Akamatsu, you mean?” Mina’s eyes widen. “Oh gosh, I’m weak for classical music, I have tickets already.”

And somehow Rantaro can’t shake the feeling things would’ve worked out regardless.

The three of them start on the way to Mina’s apartment. Shuichi stays by them, of course, but he slides his hands into his own pockets so that Mina can take one of Rantaro’s, and the adventurer realises with a start how much he missed the feel of his sister’s hand in his. God. She’s  _ okay.  _ She’s here. And she had to work, two jobs at once at one point, and that’s so startling and scary and  _ not okay  _ but she’s alive and he found her and-

And it’s good. It’s really good.

\---

Rantaro’s hand was sweaty again, but Mina wouldn’t have let it go for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bro this is gonna be really... long... and complicated
> 
> I've been setting up for this for a Hot Minute but I'm super excited to write it ajdbfjdfb it took me like THREE MONTHS to write up all the backstories and stuff for his sisters so we're in a for a whole lot of shit.
> 
> the tags aren't all there yet to avoid >:3333 spoilers
> 
> anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Mina's was pretty angst free (I love her though don't get me wrong) but this one was mostly just to break everyone in so. get ready for more
> 
> leave a comment!


	2. Kasumi Hamada Amami

Paris was a nice city.

Kasumi had been a few other places before going to Paris- the Philippines came to mind, and America- but she liked Paris the most. She liked the way that the city was lit up at night, the small dogs and cats in people’s purses, the cobblestone streets and the sound of music. She liked walking around and being able to see the Eiffel Tower. Of course, she loved Tokyo, because it was her home, but… Paris? Not bad. Her impression of it was overwhelmingly positive, perhaps in part due to the fact that she was a child, but she liked it a lot anyway. None of that other stuff mattered because it was her favourite.

Her sisters walked around her in clumps, her father standing furthest away from her on the other side of the group, but it was Rantaro leading the way. He was the one with the best sense of direction so he was the one who everyone tended to follow. Kasumi liked moments like this, where everyone was chattering and she could just quietly watch. She wasn’t quiet often so she tended to cherish the moments where she could be.

In the front of the group, Mina was, as she usually was, holding Rantaro’s hand. She’d been eating ice cream earlier and she was definitely pretty sloppy about eating it so her hand was probably really sticky but Rantaro didn’t seem to mind. He was patient like that. With all of them, really; he was patient with all of them. Something remarkable from a thirteen year old.

It was a sunny day. Kasumi preferred cloudy days, because she wasn’t a huge fan of the heat, but she liked the way that the sun looked too. She liked how everyone talking and laughing reflected that feeling that the wide, clear blue sky was giving her, and everything felt warm from the aforementioned sunshine as well. The perfect weather conditions for ice cream. Kasumi was lactose intolerant, but she could eat some ice cream, and she liked it a lot. It was sweet, and, obviously, creamy. Textures meant a lot to her. They could make or break her opinion of a thing. The consistency of ice cream was objectively pleasant. Especially when melted. So she liked it. Even if she wasn’t always a fan of brain freeze.

Kasumi glanced off to the side as they crossed the street, eyes falling on a small dog some ways away. It seemed to be a puppy, sitting alone outside of a restaurant and staring up at the establishment. She couldn’t see it well from far away but she thought it might be a dachshund. She had never seen one in person before, and that puppy was so little… unable to help herself, she split from the group and ran over to the puppy.

The poor pup looked up and saw her coming over. It probably saw a large creature running with its arms outspread for devious purposes. The love in her eyes went right over its head. Naturally, the dog ran away.

A frown adorned Kasumi’s features as she slowed to a stop, but she couldn’t help thinking,  _ why would the puppy just run away? I wanna give it pets…  _ and after a moment, she shrugged and ran after it. This felt important. A voice inside of her told her she should not let that puppy escape. Besides, she had always been a curious child. When something ran away, her immediate instinct was to run after it.

The dog took a number of turns, but always remained within Kasumi’s sight. She followed it until the path underneath her feet was no longer cobblestone, until a grey cloud passed over the sun and everything around her darkened. Then she kept running after that, her lungs burning a little, because she was so close, she didn’t wanna give up. She was sure that the pay off for catching the puppy would be magnificent.

And then the puppy did stop. It plopped itself down in front of a bakery, and began licking its own rear end. Kasumi slowed, stopped herself several feet away from the pup, afraid to scare it off again. She sucked in a couple deep breaths, trying to regain her composure, and smiled when the dachshund looked up at her, nose twitching. What an adorable puppy. She inched forward, and stuck out her hand, and… the dog sniffed at her fingers for a long moment and eventually licked them, which she took as permission to give the pup some nice scritches.

Upon closer examination, she saw that the dog was a male.

“Who do you belong to?” Kasumi asked with a small smile, rubbing the puppy behind his ear. He made a little whining noises, as though to ask her the same question, and she giggled, shaking her head. Her imagination really was too active, a dog wouldn’t ask her that kind of question, and besides, it was pretty obvious who she-

Who… she…

Kasumi’s chest tightened and she looked up and around, her throat going dry. No way. Someone had to have seen her run off. Or- or she hadn’t gone far, she could go find them- but the moment she tried to get up and leave, the dog bit the cuff of her pants, as though to tell her that she wasn’t allowed to leave. She had to stay. Kasumi’s heart raced a little bit but she sunk down onto the pavement.

She was lost.

\---

“Holy shit.” Fuyuhiko mutters, dragging his (and Kazuichi’s) suitcases on the ground as they walk down the sidewalk.

Shuichi suppresses the urge to grin at him, turning instead to Rantaro, who has a relaxed look on his face. He’s glad to see it, because throughout the plane ride the other man was pretty tense. He hopes that was a claustrophobia thing rather than a  _ I’m alright being vulnerable with my boyfriend but now that Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko can see me I can’t let my guard down  _ situation because that would be a bit upsetting and also worthy of a conversation about how Rantaro processes his emotions. (Not that either of them is deluding themselves into thinking the former Ultimate Adventurer actually has a healthy means of dealing with his feelings, but that’s beside the point.)

“It’s been like, four hours,” Kazuichi points out. “You can stop saying that, now.”

Predictably, the yakuza shoots his boyfriend a harsh glare, his elbow jutting out to lodge itself beneath Kazuichi’s ribs. It’s clearly not hard enough to hurt or even annoy the other man, because  _ that  _ would be upsetting, but Kazuichi still lets out a squawk and jerks away, so he’s probably just ticklish. “We’re in fucking Paris, mind humouring me for a second, asshat?”

“Wow, they love each other.” Rantaro remarks, and Shuichi feels himself smiling despite all his attempts not to.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kazuichi rolls his eyes. “It’s more like dating a chihuahua than the man I love.”

“Wanna say that again?” Fuyuhiko asks.

“Uhhh, nope, I’m good,” Kazuichi replies, and Shuichi shakes his head, blowing a strand of hair out of his face. He likes watching them banter, in part because it’s funny, but also because it’s clear they don’t actually mean anything when they insult each other. Fuyuhiko is a naturally aggressive person, something that Shuichi discovered on accident, but while he doesn’t treat Kazuichi any differently, there’s a certain softness to his mannerisms around the mechanic that makes his behaviour towards the man seem a lot different. More like loving arguing than any real fights.

Still, there’s someone else here he’d rather be focusing on. He’s happy they brought Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko with them, because they haven’t seen the two in a  _ while;  _ they in fact would not have had the opportunity if not for Shuichi’s subscription to Chiaki Nanami’s let’s play channel, where she mentioned that her friend Fuyuhiko really wanted to take his boyfriend to Paris. They had a trip scheduled anyway, so it was really just a matter of Rantaro giving Fuyuhiko a call and inviting them to go.

“Are you tired?” Shuichi asks, and he’s looking at Rantaro when he says this, his voice lowered so that it’s soft enough that Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko understand he’s not talking to them. The green-haired man glances at him, an eyebrow raised, so he specifies; “I noticed you didn’t sleep much on the plane.”

“I’m fine.” Rantaro returns, squeezing the detective’s hand. “I’ll get some rest when we get to our hotel.”

“That’s not an answer to my question,” he points out, and purses his lips. Rantaro smiles at him, and it’s obviously a tired smile, but it still coaxes a reluctant smile out of Shuichi. “Damn it,” he mutters, and then Rantaro laughs, shaking his head. “You’re not fair and also rude.”

“I think you might be the one who needs some rest, babe.” Rantaro comments, leaning forward and kissing Shuichi on the forehead, and Shuichi makes a face at him but squeezes his hand anyway.

“Wow.” Fuyuhiko’s voice drags them out of the moment, and Shuichi turns his head to meet the yakuza’s yellow eyes. “You two really are… that couple.”

“That couple?” Rantaro echoes, furrowing his brow.

“Y’know, like,” Kazuichi pauses, like he’s not sure. “You’re both twenty one now, right? You’ve been dating for like five years?”

“Huh.” Shuichi blinks. “I guess it has been five years.”

“And you’ve been going out since high school. Kaz and I only started seeing each other around this time last year.” Fuyuhiko rolls his shoulders. He’s grinning, though, that sort of smug grin that he wears sometimes, and it’s a bit contagious, though Shuichi is admittedly slightly embarrassed by the subject matter. “You’re  _ that  _ couple. Just like Hajime and Chiaki, or, uhh…” Fuyuhiko pauses. “Was everyone in our class a gross heterosexual?”

“Nah, that’s not true, Ibuki and Nagito were definitely gay.” Kazuichi frowns. “And… Mikan was pan?”

“Fuck, it’s been so long, I need to get caught up on everyone’s sexualities again. When we get back Mahiru needs to host another one of those class reunions.”

Shuichi can’t help smiling slightly. “Is knowing the sexualities of everyone in your class a top priority for you, Fuyuhiko?”

“Yes.” Fuyuhiko replies.

And that’s that.

\---

Kasumi opened her eyes, startled to have fallen asleep, at the sound of a bell ringing to her right. She turned quickly, and the dog in her lap, which had slept there all night, perked up, as though frightened as well. With wide eyes, she watched as the door to the establishment she was sleeping in front of (a bakery, it seemed, based on the cakes and other pastries in the windows) opened.

A woman, her mother’s age or perhaps a little older, stepped out, her hand on the sign out front that must’ve said  _ open.  _ (Kasumi had no way of knowing; she didn’t speak any French.) She had warm brown eyes, a shade that reminded her of her own, and straight salt and pepper hair that she tied out of her face in a bun. She wore an apron around her waist and her hands were covered in flower. There was a smear of the stuff across her cheek, as though she had wiped away a bead of sweat after baking something, but she didn’t seem to be aware of it.

The woman’s eyes landed on Kasumi, and they widened. She didn’t seem hostile, but Kasumi felt threatened anyway; she clutched the dog and inched away slightly, shivering a bit in the cold. She hoped the woman wouldn’t get angry for falling asleep out here. After realising that she was lost last night, she just sort of sat down and passed out with her back against the wall of the building.

“Bonjour,” the woman greeted, and Kasumi thankfully understood what  _ that  _ meant, though she really didn’t speak any other words of French. It was a beautiful language, she just didn’t feel that she had the brain capacity to learn any more of it. At least not without a lot of time to learn it and a lot of support from a native speaker of the language. The woman said something else, perhaps a question based on the lilt of her voice, but Kasumi couldn’t understand. It all sounded like gibberish.

“Uhm…” she trailed off, because the woman probably didn’t understand Japanese. “Sorry, I don’t speak…” she tried, anyway, and the woman blinked at her in bewilderment. It was a long, awkward moment, before the woman sighed, and gestured for Kasumi to stand up.

Hesitantly, she did, but not necessarily because she trusted the stranger’s intentions. She just wasn’t sure what would happen if she refused. The dog crawled out of her arms and stood by her ankle, perhaps keeping guard- though it was a bit too small to be of any real help in the even that this woman was dangerous.

She didn’t seem threatening, though. Her stature was very soft, and so was the smile she gave when she pointed at the door, as though telling Kasumi to step inside. She said something, and obviously Kasumi didn’t understand it, but it was clear enough that this woman was trying to get her to enter the bakery. It might’ve been dangerous, and in fact she couldn’t think of a good reason to ask a child to enter one’s business alone without parents, but somehow she really doubted that she was going to be murdered. The smile on the woman’s face seemed too open, if slightly confused.

And… besides that… it was cold outside, and it had been cold all night, and Kasumi was really hungry, and the bakery smelled sweet, like sugar, so…

Though she had pretty much made up her mind, Kasumi hesitated a moment longer, watching the woman look at her, and then the bakery owner pointed at herself, very purposefully, and said, “Marie.”

Marie? Kasumi opened and closed her mouth, and then tried, “M-Marie?” Was that her name? Why would she give her name? Perhaps so Kasumi would trust her? Admittedly, having a name to put to the face in front of her made things all the more less frightening… she paused. “Uhm, I’m, uh, Kasumi. Kasumi,” she repeated a second time, slower, because Marie looked confused.

“Kasumi?” Marie echoed, and her pronunciation was a bit awkward, thick with a French accent, but she said it more or less correctly, so Kasumi nodded her head. At that, Marie smiled, and it was sweet and non-threatening enough that Kasumi threw her caution to the wind and followed the woman inside.

\---

Shuichi takes a seat on the ground underneath the awning outside a bookstore, waiting for Rantaro to finish using the bathroom. It’s not pouring outside like it was several years ago when they came here, but there’s a light drizzle. Actually, this is Shuichi’s favourite kind of weather. It makes the streets smell crisp and fresh rather than filthy. Rain scent is much preferred to the smell of exhaust so common on the city.

He takes out his phone to pass the time, tapping into Tumblr and scrolling past memes that he’s already chuckled at to get to some new ones. There’s no fun in rereading memes he’s already seen unless it’s been a while since he’s seen them. It’s the same way with all of his favourite books; he has to take long breaks in between rereading them to actually stay engaged as he reads them for what must be the third or fourth time around. It’s nice to rediscover the things that made him happy before, but there comes a point where that all wears off with repetition.

While Shuichi scrolls, a text comes in on his phone. The text is from Maki, and since they haven’t chatted over text in a couple weeks, he clicks on the message right away.

_ [Do you follow international news at all?] _

Shuichi hums, considering the question.

_ [not really, unless i’m working a specific case… sometimes i read those tiny happiness news stories so that i can feel less sad jajkfhds why] _

_ [I haven’t been back in Texas for very long but about a week after I moved back in with Kaito there was this murder really close to where I live. I was wondering if you’d heard about it.] _

_ [ah, really…? i havent, but what are the details?] _

_ [Man running for Sheriff got shot. Looks like a professional did it.] _

Maki would know. She does volunteer work for a non-profit organisation now, working with children in difficult situations (which is why she’s only recently moved back in with Kaito, because she’s been traveling a lot recently for her job) but she used to be an assassin, back in high school. She willingly joined a cult as a child to protect her orphanage.

_ [It’s a pretty standard assassination. Bullet was in the back of his skull. He died instantly. Whoever did it knew what they were doing… though I personally would’ve done something more low-profile than shooting the guy, if I had the chance.] _

_ [thanks for telling me your opinion???] _

_ [I’m kidding, obviously. Do you want to die?] _

Some things never change. Shuichi snorts.

_ [One more thing. There was nothing there to point to who might’ve been the assassin but a white chrysanthemum. Cut right at the stem and placed on his chest.] _

_ [that’s… odd.] _

_ [I’m going to look into it more, because I’m curious and the police aren’t finding any results, but I’m not sure what I’ll find.] _

_ [be careful about going back into your old circles :( that’s really dangerous] _

_ [I can take care of myself. I’ll keep you posted.] _

And with that, Maki sends nothing else, and Shuichi considers going back to look at memes, but decides against it after a moment. He’s too wrapped up in the conversation that he just had. A local sheriff election (in  _ Texas  _ of all places) doesn’t really hold enough political weight to warrant an assassination, so he’s not really sure why something like that would’ve happened. No trained professional would, of their own accord, go after a man running for sheriff.

But if they were paid…

He’s probably thinking a bit too hard about this. He should focus on finding Kasumi. They’ve been in Paris for a few days and he can tell that Rantaro’s starting to get a bit antsy. Shuichi slides his phone into his pocket just as his boyfriend reemerges from the bookshop, a bag in hand and a wide grin on his face.

“You’re going to have to learn French, because I got you a book.” Rantaro says as he closes the door behind himself. Shuichi can’t help smiling as he gets to his feet, reaching out to take his boyfriend’s hand. “Their bathroom smelled great. French air fresheners are a lot better than the ones I’ve smelled anywhere else.”

“I’m not sure if that’s why they smell better.” Shuichi remarks. “But is that why you took twenty minutes in the bathroom?”

“Hey…”

\---

“Taro,” Kasumi pouted at the dog as he rolled onto his side, gazing up at her with pleading brown eyes. “You’re fat and lazy.”

“What is he, your errand dog?” Marie grinned at her from behind the counter, rolling out a piece of dough to make a croissant. Kasumi stuck her tongue out, but was forced to admit that Marie had a point. Even before Taro got fat, he was still lazy. The bar was low to begin with. She really shouldn’t be surprised.

Naming him Taro might’ve been a bad idea, in retrospect. She did so initially because that was the shortened version of her older brother’s name- she thought if she named the dog after him, it would make things easier for Rantaro to find her, and he’d show up sooner. As it turned out, that’s not what ended up happening. Because Kasumi was fluent in French at that point and she was fourteen years old. Five years was a long time to spend waiting for a person. That was the truth.

“What do you want him to do, anyway? I only heard the insulting part of this exchange,” Marie paused in her work with the dough, putting her hands on her hips. Her eyes, just like Taro’s (and Kasumi’s own), were brown, but Taro’s leaned more towards grey, whereas Marie’s were more like creamy milk chocolate. Kasumi’s were chocolate too, but dark chocolate. Rich and bitter.

“Some dogs are trained to go pick up the newspaper from the driveway, you know.” Kasumi remarked, sitting down next to Taro. She reached out to rub his belly, despite the fact that she was insulting him. “Not this lazy man. He just sits around and eats our food.”

“He’s  _ very  _ smart, though.” Marie pointed out.

“You say that every time I call him fat and lazy.” Kasumi made a face. “He might be smart, but that doesn’t change who he is at heart.” She looked down at the dog. “And he loves belly rubs.”

It was remarkable how routine everything had been since she got lost and Marie found her sitting outside her bakery. It was difficult communicating at first, considering that she didn’t speak French, but after a couple weeks of awkwardly trying to talk to each other, Marie eventually began to teach her the language. Kasumi was waiting for her brother to come find her, because she assumed that he would, but she’d be lying if she said things were uncomfortable in Paris. She’d begun attending public school, and there were kids who she wanted to become closer friends with, and she helped out at the bakery and insulted Taro and spent a lot of time talking to Marie.

But she wanted her family to come back for her. She missed them. She missed Tokyo. And she was tired of not letting herself make friends.

\---

They’re leaving Paris this evening.

Shuichi is pretty sure they’re not going to find Kasumi on this trip, but Rantaro was so quiet and disappointed when they woke up this morning that he insisted more firmly than usual that they go out and search.

For the most part, Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko have been doing their own thing- looking around at all the tourist destinations and taking a lot of pictures for Kazuichi’s instagram, but since it’s the last day they don’t have any plans, and this morning when Shuichi asked, they both said that they might as well tag along and help look.

That’s why they’re standing in the same place that they’ve searched for the past few days. The last spot where Rantaro remembers seeing Kasumi before she disappeared. Shuichi isn’t sure what else there is to search here, because they’ve pretty much combed it up and down, but Fuyuhiko suggested that they come here, so mostly he, Kazuichi, and Rantaro are just standing around while the yakuza looks.

Without saying anything, Fuyuhiko starts off down the sidewalk to their right.

“Hey, Fuyu, where you going?” Kazuichi calls out.

“She disappeared right here, dimwit. She probably got distracted and ran off.” Fuyuhiko returns, kneeling down in front of a crack in the sidewalk. Shuichi walks over to join him, but makes sure not to stand in his light, because it seems that Fuyuhiko’s yellow eyes are focused on something in particular.

“What makes you think so?” Shuichi asks quietly.

“Well, uh, it was before your time at Hope’s Peak, but, uh,” Fuyuhiko stops looking for a moment, meeting Shuichi’s gaze. “I had a younger sister. She was irresponsible and prone to getting herself into trouble.”

“Had?” Shuichi repeats, and then adds, “Sorry, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine.” Fuyuhiko looks away. “She died.” There’s an awkward silence, and Shuichi wonders if he should say something about it, but then- “Aha! Okay.” He tries to reach into the crack, but his fingers are too large, so he pauses, frowning at it. “You got tweezers on you?”

“Ah! Yes, I do, hold on.” Shuichi slings his backpack off of his shoulder and unzips the largest pocket, pulling out his makeup case (just a small one that he uses while traveling; usually he doesn’t bother with much more than eyeliner and mascara) and selecting his tweezers from the kit. “Will this be fine?” He asks, handing them over to Fuyuhiko.

“Yeah, these are good.” Fuyuhiko replies, but he’s focusing on whatever’s caught his eye. Footsteps behind them, and Shuichi is pretty sure Rantaro and Kazuichi have come over, but he’s looking at Fuyuhiko as the yakuza reaches into the crack with the tweezers. When he pulls them out, whatever he’s extracted catches the sunlight, and Shuichi blinks, raising his eyebrows. “Got it. This look familiar, Rantaro?”

Shuichi watches as Rantaro holds out his hand, taking the charm from Fuyuhiko and bringing it closer to his face to look at it. The detective scrambles to his feet and peeks over his boyfriend’s shoulder. It’s a little taro charm, like one that would be on a charm bracelet. Rantaro’s expression is unreadable for a moment, but then he looks up at Fuyuhiko, and his eyes are wide and vulnerable.

“How did you…”

“So that’s a yes?” Fuyuhiko gets to his feet, brushing himself off. “Great. Then she went this way. C’mon, let’s go.”

“You’re pretty smart sometimes.” Kazuichi grins at him, reaching out and touching the side of his face. Fuyuhiko scowls, his face flushing, and pushes Kazuichi’s hand away.

“Whatever. Dumbass. Let’s just go.”

Kazuichi is still laughing as they begin on their way.

\---

“Can I call you mom?” Kasumi asked. Marie blinked.

“Good morning to you too, jeez,” she muttered, sitting up in her bed and rubbing her eyes. The clock told her it was almost five in the morning, which meant she’d be getting up soon anyway to start baking. Still, though, she was tired. Being woken up before the alarm was rough. Especially by her fifteen year old daughter figure, who was at that moment standing in the doorway of her room. “Why would you want to do that? Wouldn’t that make things awkward when your brother comes for you?”

“My brother isn’t coming.” Kasumi muttered. She leaned against the doorway, blinking quickly, and Marie thought she might be blinking away tears. “I’m just robbing myself of a childhood by acting like he is and not getting comfortable here. Rantaro probably forgot about me.”

“Kasumi…” Marie trailed off.

“It’s fine, I’ll get over it.” She sniffled, wiping at her eyes. “They moved on without me. I need to move on without them. It’s okay if you don’t want me to call you mom, though. Or if you want me to leave.”

“Hey, hey, no. C’mere, don’t say that.” Marie spread her arms, and so Kasumi padded over, sitting down on the bed next to her. Marie pulled the girl into a hug. “Don’t give up on your family. I don’t think anyone could ever forget about you.” She paused. “But of course you can call me mom, my love. You can stay here forever if you want.”

\---

“We’ve been walking for a while. What are we looking for, exactly?” Kazuichi asks after about fifteen minutes of walking straight in the direction Kasumi presumably ran off in nine years ago.

“Well,” Shuichi pauses. “If that charm fell off her bracelet, it’s possible that it was broken, and more charms might’ve fallen off. So we’re looking for those. Any hints that might tell us where she could be.”

“Should we split up, then?” Kazuichi frowns. “We’d be more efficient if the four of us were looking in different places.”

“No.” Rantaro shakes his head, and his grip on Shuichi’s hand tightens, almost as though he’s afraid to lose him. Shuichi frowns at the adventurer, wondering if something happened to make him more tense today. (He’s barely said anything this whole time.) “It’ll take longer, but we should stick together. Paris is a big city and we could get lost.”

“Uh, yeah,” Fuyuhiko frowns. “That’s why we have phones, dumbass.”

“It’s alright,” Shuichi says quietly. “We’ll stay as a group.” And when Fuyuhiko meets his gaze, eyebrows raised, he shakes his head slightly, and the yakuza nods, seeming to understand. Shuichi is grateful, because he’s worried about Rantaro right now.

They walk for a while longer, but they all halt when Kazuichi stops abruptly, looking at the window of an establishment they’ve just stopped next to.

“I don’t read very good French or anything,” Kazuichi starts. “But does this bakery serve taro stuff?”   
  


“A bakery in Paris? Maybe the owner is Japanese.” Fuyuhiko remarks, leaning in close to his boyfriend to examine the sign in the window. Sure enough, it seems that they’re advertising a number of taro pastries, as well as a special kind of cake. The images look appealing, but Shuichi can’t help noticing the faraway look on Rantaro’s face as he takes in the sign.

“You alright?” Shuichi asks softly, nudging Rantaro’s arm.

“Yeah.” Rantaro shakes his head, and he smiles, but Shuichi can tell that it’s forced. “I’m just… thinking about how much…” he sighs. “Kasumi is showing up everywhere today.”

“Hm.” Shuichi looks at the bakery again, frowning at the door. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt to step inside for a moment.” He muses. “Those pastries might be really good, even if I am skeptical of people who aren’t Asian making taro.”

“I think that’s kind of racist?” Kazuchi makes a face, like he’s not sure, and Shuichi laughs, quickly assuring the mechanic that he’s joking.

After a moment of deliberation, they decide that Shuichi and Rantaro will go in. Rantaro seems reluctant, probably because he sees it as a waste of time that could be spent looking for his sister, but Shuichi’s gut is telling them that they should go in.

Upon entering the bakery, a dog runs up to them, barking at their heels. A dachshund, it seems; a very fat little man. Shuichi smiles slightly, but tightly, because he prefers cats, and Rantaro lets out a laugh, bending over to give the dog some pets. The door falls shut behind them, ringing the tiny bell on top again, and a voice shouts to them from the back.

“I’ll be out there in a sec!” The voice calls in French. Shuichi doesn’t understand very much, but he knows enough to know what the girl is saying.

After a moment, the back door swings open, and a short, slightly chubby (clearly Japanese) girl with a very round face and almond shaped dark eyes comes out, tying her curly brown hair into a small ponytail, as it’s not very long. She’s smiling, distracted, as she walks up to the counter. She says something else in French, that Shuichi can’t understand, but cuts off mid-sentence when she sees them, eyes wide.

Rantaro looks up from the dog, and his eyes widen too, mouth falling open.

_ It must be her,  _ Shuichi thinks.

“Rantaro?” The girl, likely Kasumi, says, gaping at them.

“Hi, Kasumi,” Rantaro returns, and his voice sounds rough, but emotional, and Shuichi can tell that he’s holding his breath.

There’s a long moment of silence. And then, startlingly, Kasumi scowls. “What are you doing here?” She asks in Japanese. She sounds angry. “Where have you been?”

Slowly getting to his feet, Rantaro seems to roll with her anger. “I’ve been looking for you,” he replies quietly. “I’m-”

“Nevermind, forget it. You want me to come back with you, right?” Kasumi frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s almost been ten years, Rantaro. I have a life now.” She sounds angry, alarmingly so, and perhaps Rantaro feels the same because he doesn’t say anything else. He just looks at her. “I don’t want you to be here.” She adds, more quietly, and then, “I can help you if you want to buy something, but other than that, I need you to leave.”

\---

Kasumi wondered, as she stared up at the sky from the roof of the bakery (and also the apartment that she lived in with Marie, as it was in fact just the upstairs of the bakery) what she would do if Rantaro ever came for her. Most days she felt angry enough that she thought she would probably just throw him out. She loved Paris, and Marie, and the friends she had. She wouldn’t trade it for anything. If she felt brave enough to tell him that, and to tell him to leave… that would probably be really satisfying, wouldn’t it?

But then… what if, when he came, it was on one of those days where she still wanted him to come? What would she do then? Go with him? Kasumi sat up, looking off the edge of the roof at the spot on the sidewalk where she sat with Taro all night until Marie came out and found them the next morning. No, she couldn’t go back to Japan. She couldn’t leave the life she had here.

Kasumi promised herself that no matter what, even if Rantaro came and cried and said he was so sorry for everything, she wouldn’t go with him. He left her behind, and forgot about her, and so did her parents and so did her sisters. That was it. She wasn’t going back.

\---

Obviously, they don’t leave.

Right after Kasumi says that, Rantaro stands there, looking like he doesn’t know what to say, and then another woman walks out- this woman is a lot older than Kasumi, with salt and pepper hair and milk chocolate eyes, and she looks at the scene for a moment before turning to Kasumi and saying something in French. They talk for a moment, and then Kasumi turns and heads into the back, the door slamming shut behind herself, and the woman looks at Rantaro and Shuichi.

“Rantaro, right?” The woman asks in Japanese, smiling slightly. Her accent is a bit off, but she speaks colloquially, which makes Shuichi think she learned it from a native speaker. (Perhaps Kasumi, even, though Kasumi does have a slight French accent.) “I’m Marie. Kasumi’s been staying with me for the past nine years.” She pauses, and Shuichi wonders if the smile on her face is meant to look that sad. “Please, don’t take off just yet. She’s only angry because it took so long. I’ll talk her round.”

“We’re not going anywhere.” Rantaro says quietly. He’s smiling too, but Shuichi notices that the look on his face doesn’t reflect much reason to smile. More like… self loathing. And he understands, sort of. He knows that this is the sort of thing that Rantaro has nightmares about. So he probably has no idea what he’s doing.

“I didn’t think so.” Marie shakes her head, and then pulls a notepad out of one of the pockets on her apron, walking over and writing on it with a pen. “Here’s my phone number. I’ll let you know if I make any progress with her.”

Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko, after learning that Shuichi and Rantaro plan on extending their stay in Paris, still end up flying back to Japan as planned. Kazuichi offers to stay longer, but Rantaro tells them to go.

“You already helped me find her.” He justifies faintly. “You don’t have to help me take her home.”

So they drop the two off at the airport, and then head back to their hotel room. When they get back, Shuichi places his backpack on the bed before turning to look at Rantaro, who’s still standing at the door to the room with a hand on the doorknob. His head is tilted forward, forehead resting against the door, and he’s quiet, but Shuichi is pretty sure that he’s crying.

Without saying anything, the detective walks over and slides his arms around Rantaro’s waist from behind, hugging him tight.

“...I’m sorry.” Rantaro says quietly, and Shuichi shakes his head, pressing his cheek against Rantaro’s back. “I just…”

“I know.” Shuichi replies, just as softly, and kisses him on the back, despite the fact that he’s wearing both a jacket and several layers of shirts so he probably doesn’t even feel it. “Even if things don’t work out exactly the way we want them to, we’ll figure out a way to fix them. I think she’s just hurt.”   
  


“Yeah.” Rantaro inhales shakily, and Shuichi hugs him tighter. “But I’m the reason that she’s hurt.”

The next morning, they go straight to the bakery, only to see that Marie is waiting for them at the door. She smiles, bright and friendly, when she sees them.

“Good morning!” She greets. “We’re not open on Saturdays, but come on in anyway. I made breakfast!”

Marie, as it turns out, is very friendly. She’s cheerful and kind, and her voice is almost musical. Warm. She has a very motherly disposition, and her food is… very good. Rantaro, though he’s been in a bit of a funk since yesterday, seems to cheer up a little bit talking to her. Which is good, because Shuichi doesn’t like seeing him upset. It makes his stomach clench.

Part of the way through the meal, Shuichi notices that Kasumi is sitting outside the bakery, on the curb, her knees tucked into her chest and her dog sleeping at her side. She’s staring off into the distance, and Shuichi’s never met her before, but she looks troubled. Somehow, Shuichi doesn’t think that talking to her brother would be the best idea right now.

“Can you excuse me for a moment?” Shuichi gets to his feet. “I, uhm, need to step outside for a moment.”

“You okay?” Rantaro asks, putting a hand on his arm. “Want me to go with you?”

“No, it’s alright, stay here.” Shuichi smiles, kissing Rantaro on the forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

So Rantaro nods, and he waves quickly at Marie before he turns and starts walking out back through the bakery. He opens the door, and the bell chimes, and he steps out onto the sidewalk, and Kasumi turns to look at him, scowling.

Then her face relaxes. “Oh. It’s you.” She says, as if she knows who Shuichi is.

“Hi,” Shuichi responds. He steps forward, and then stops. “May I sit next to you?”

Kasumi gives him a long look, her brow furrowed and her lower lip wobbling, but then she nods, sighing and looking away. “Sure. It’s not my sidewalk.”

Shuichi looks at her for a moment longer and decides she reminds him of Maki, a couple years ago when she and Kaito had a fight and they almost broke up. He sits down next to her, but he doesn’t say anything. He just crosses his legs and looks around. This is a nice area. Marie chose a good place for her bakery. It’s no wonder Kasumi likes it around here, all the beautiful architecture and the nice businesses. Kasumi’s dog nudges his leg, and he looks at it, pursing his lips. He really prefers cats. But the dog is kind of cute, so he reaches out and scratches it behind the ear.

“Taro.” Kasumi says.

“Hm?” Shuichi looks over at her, eyebrows raised. “Sorry?”

“His name is Taro. The dog, I mean.” She messes with her wrist, and Shuichi notices that she’s wearing a charm bracelet. Probably the one that lost the taro charm in the crack in the sidewalk.

“Did you name him after your brother? Or the vegetable?” At that, Kasumi gives him a weird look, but then smiles slightly, shaking her head as she looks away again.

“Both, I guess.” She messes with the hem of her jeans. “I thought it would make him come sooner.”

Shuichi doesn’t say anything to that. He looks up at the sky, watches grey clouds blow across in the wind. It’s overcast again today. It might even start raining. Not the best day to be sitting outside a bakery with no awning, but he doesn’t mind. Kasumi doesn’t seem to mind, either; even though she’s not wearing a jacket, she doesn’t seem to be particularly cold.

“So, are you like, someone he hired to help him look for me?” Kasumi’s voice interrupts his thoughts again, and Shuichi shakes his head at her.

“No.” Shuichi smooths down the fur on Taro’s neck that stood up when he started scratching him behind the ear. “I’m his boyfriend.”   
  


“Oh.” Kasumi is quiet for a moment. “You’re helping him look?”

“Yeah. I don’t really do long distance.” Shuichi grins at her, and Kasumi snorts, perhaps without meaning to, before turning her head away. She looks a bit exasperated, but begrudgingly amused. “He’s been looking for you for a while. This is probably our sixth time in Paris in the five years that we’ve been dating.”

“You want me to go back with him.” Kasumi doesn’t ask this, she states it, gazing off at nothing. She’s still messing with her bracelet. “Right?”

“Mm. Well, I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t.” Shuichi shrugs. “I am in love with him, after all.” The corner of Kasumi’s mouth twitches, like she’s trying not to smile, and she shakes her head. “But I understand why you don’t want to.”

Kasumi presses her lips together into a thin line. “Really.” The word implies that she’s asking him if he means it, but she doesn’t say it like a question. She sounds skeptical. And a bit patronised. Shuichi supposes that that’s fair.

“My circumstances are a bit different than yours, but I can understand part of it.” Shuichi explains quietly. “My parents left me in the care of my aunt and uncle to pursue work overseas. I only ever heard their voices from the movies that they did for the first ten years of my life.” He’s not fishing for pity; considering Kasumi’s situation, he doesn’t want her to feel bad for him. Or feel bad for how she feels. He just wants her to know that he understands, at least a little bit, how she feels right now. Her gaze is on him at this point, and her brown eyes are wide, but she doesn’t say anything for the moment. “I doubt it felt the same for you as it did for me, but it never feels good to have your parents leave you behind.”

“They left you on purpose?” Kasumi asks. “Like, they just… dumped you on your aunt and uncle and… never looked back?”

“That’s right, yes.” Shuichi shrugs. “But it was a while ago. And my father and I are on good terms now.”

Hesitantly, Kasumi asks, “What about your mom?”

“She passed away when I was sixteen,” and though it’s his own business Shuichi still phrases it delicately, not wanting Kasumi to be upset. It was a while ago, but thinking about it Shuichi can’t help feeling a bit sour. She must see that in his expression, because Kasumi frowns at him, and he quickly speaks again. “It was a while ago, so don’t-”

“You’re twenty one, right?” Kasumi interrupts him. “Like Rantaro.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s right.” Shuichi nods, noting that she remembers exactly how old Rantaro is, even after all this time.

“Was he there? When your mom died, I mean.” She’s not looking at him exactly, but he can still tell she’s paying attention to what he’s going to say.

Shuichi doesn’t even have to think about it. “He was. The whole time.” He still wakes up drenched in sweat sometimes, reliving that funeral over and over again. Without Rantaro there, he’s not sure what would’ve happened. Nothing good, he’s sure. He wouldn’t have a relationship with his father, at least. “He’s always been there for me.”

“I bet.” Kasumi looks away again. “I’m not… mad at him, y’know. Not really. If he found me now that means he’s been looking for me all this time. I just can’t help but think about all nine of the years it took for him to find me, and how happy I am here, and…” she shakes her head. “I couldn’t leave. I can’t leave mom- well, Marie- and I can’t leave Paris.” She sighs. There’s something wistful about her demeanour. “Even if I would’ve a couple years ago. I can’t now.”

“You don’t have to.” Shuichi remarks.

“Hm? What do you mean? You’re here to take me back, aren’t you?” Kasumi frowns. “That’s why you came?”

“Ah, well, that was the plan, but,” Shuichi pauses. “It’s not like we want to drag you away from the life you’ve created here. And where do you think we’re going? Why do you have to choose between seeing your family again and keeping the one you made here?”

“Don’t… don’t you want me to come back to Japan?” Kasumi blinks. She seems awfully confused. “That’s what I… assumed, when I saw you…”

“I’ve known Rantaro for a while, Kasumi. I’ve pretty much been living with him for the past five years.” Shuichi looks at her, and then she finally meets his eyes. (Hers are full of tears.) “I can say with certainty that what he wants isn’t to take you away from Marie and your life here. What he wants is to be a part of it. The whole time I’ve known him all he’s wanted was to get you and the rest of your sisters back. That doesn’t mean taking you back to Japan if you don’t want it to. That means you being able to come to Japan when you want to, and see your biological parents and Rantaro and your sisters, when we find them. And it means us being able to contact you. Or you being able to contact us. It means-”

“You not being lost somewhere in the world where I can’t find you.” Rantaro’s voice cuts Shuichi off, and both Shuichi and Kasumi look up to see him standing in the doorway of the bakery. Somehow, neither of them noticed that bell jingling when he opened it. He’s smiling slightly, but his eyes are a bit misty, and Shuichi wants to rush over there and kiss him until he feels better. (He doesn’t, though, because this isn’t really his moment.) “Shuichi is right, Kas. You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to.”

“You’re not making me leave?” Kasumi asks quietly. She’s staring up at Rantaro with an odd look on her face. “You just…”

“I want you to be somewhere I can see you. And where I can give you gifts on your birthdays and where you can tell me about stuff or ask for my advice.” Rantaro stops abruptly, and then his smile turns a bit more sad, and he says, “Where I can be your brother again.”

There’s another moment of silence that feels a lot longer than it is, and then Kasumi scrambles to her feet and throws herself into Rantaro’s arms. He almost falls over, startled, but manages to catch her and hug her back, pressing his face into the crown of her head and closing his eyes. Shuichi can hear her crying, and he knows Rantaro is crying a little too, but he looks away from them, at Taro, who’s fallen asleep with his head on Shuichi’s knee, and smiles slightly.

“You might be growing on me,” he tells the dog quietly.

\---

Kasumi wished that she could look through all the light pollution to the stars behind it so that she could find the star she wished on to bring Rantaro back into her life and tell it thank you for everything. Nine years was a long time to wait. But he still came. And that was what counted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it literally took me like six days to write this someone shoot me ajbdfjasdbf
> 
> these chapters take so LONG ajkbsfjd and they're so LONG and Kasumi's isn't even the most intense
> 
> but yeah y'all,,,, people are complicated >:D
> 
> deadass Marie is my favourite random OC and it's definitely not bc I'm weak for women named Marie haha n o p e
> 
> this one is definitely,,, more angsty than the last one,,,,,
> 
> also I hope you enjoyed that uhhh Kuzusouda because I wasn't planning on putting them in there but I wanted this fic to have a larger cast than,, Rantaro, Shuichi, and a bunch of OCs lmaoakjbdfjsdbf
> 
> okay bye


	3. Tsubaki Nakamura Amami

It was Tsubaki’s first time in Barcelona.

She’d wanted to go since she started learning Spanish when she was eight. There were a lot of places that Tsubaki thought it might be cool to visit, but Spain most of all. A large portion of her time was spent looking at images of buildings in Barcelona online, and in those large, dusty picture books from the library. Her tutor, who grew up in Spain, told her about the life he lived there, and while it wasn’t necessarily something that she wanted for  _ herself,  _ she wanted to see it. She had always wanted to go. She should have been excited.

But it was hard for her to be excited about this, even though she had looked forward to it for so long, after what happened to Kasumi. It wasn’t like Kasumi was the first one of their sisters to get lost, but it had happened so  _ recently.  _ She disappeared just a couple  _ weeks  _ ago, and even though that warranted either a prolonged stay in Paris or an emergency return to Japan, they carried on to Barcelona as if everything was okay. Like everything was fine. That was normal for them, in a sense, because four of their sisters had already been lost before Kasumi, but the other losses had months between them. Just thirteen days ago, Kasumi was walking next to her, making the whole group laugh with some dumb joke, and everything was  _ fine. _

She didn’t like being the one who was killing the mood. It wasn’t the role she usually assumed in groups. With some of her sisters, Hikaru for example, if she wasn’t happy, she would relentlessly drag everyone else down with her. Hikaru was  _ stubborn.  _ Tsubaki didn’t think of herself that way, but admittedly, she sort of wished that she was, because she really hated seeing everyone else being happy so soon after Kasumi disappeared.

It wasn’t their faults, for the most part. They were just trying to keep moving, even with the knowledge that Kasumi might be gone forever. Tsubaki’s father (or, her step-father, really, but she wasn’t close to her biological father, so he was pretty much her dad) was doing this especially, all forced cheerfulness and enthusiastic smiles. He was focusing on her especially, probably because she was being so down in the dumps, and she had been the one who was looking forward to this part of the trip the most. Any other time and the extra attention would’ve made her happy. (Being on the older end of the middle children in a family with twelve kids made her feel a bit overshadowed at all times.) But she found it impossible to play along this time.

She kept thinking about the exact moment that Kasumi had to have disappeared. They were just walking, and everyone was in this big group, and it was so sunny and they were all laughing- and then suddenly they turned into an alleyway and she wasn’t there. They turned back, and tried to retrace their steps, but…

Even with all of that popping into her head, Tsubaki might’ve been able to at least enjoy the fact that she was in Barcelona if not for Rantaro. He liked exploring more than any of them (except for Maemi, maybe, Tsubaki’s real biological sister, but Maemi had been lost before Kasumi was, even) and he’d been looking forward to coming to Spain too. Which was why it was so painful seeing him the way he was, dejected and tired. There was no way that what had happened to Kasumi could’ve been his fault- sometimes that was debatable, but this time it was just genuinely something that only Kasumi was in control of- and yet it was obvious that he blamed himself.

Tsubaki considered herself to be a pretty good judge of character. Rantaro was definitely the kind of person who blamed himself for stuff that was out of his control. A pretty bad tendency for a kid. He blamed himself every time something bad happened to one of their sisters. He got like this after Kikuko disappeared, and Aki, and Rui, and Maemi… so it wasn’t surprising that he’d be tearing himself apart over Kasumi. If anything,  _ that  _ should’ve been why they should have headed back to Japan. But they didn’t. And seeing him like that all the time was only giving Tsubaki more reasons to be mad at their parents.

She wasn’t the kind of kid to throw big fits, not like Hikaru was, but she found little ways to express her frustration. Little sarcastic remarks during tours. Crossing her arms and jutting out her lower lip every time they were walking around. Glaring at her food during every meal. Refusing to order any ice cream, or pick out any souvenirs. Giving one-word responses in conversations. There was a weird kind of satisfaction that she got from throwing a tantrum, and the fact that she was completely justified (in her opinion) only made her want to keep going.

There was the fact, though, that outside of those tiny surges of satisfaction she got whenever one of her parents looked guilty, or Kei or Mina frowned at her for being disrespectful (in true older sibling fashion), that she was totally miserable. She wanted to be enjoying herself, since she was in the place that she had wanted to go for so long, but she felt like she owed it to Kasumi to make everyone else feel bad about having a good time. Even if it was a bit selfish and mean on her part.

Well, forget the selfish bit. They were the selfish ones, for continuing their trip even though Kasumi was god-knows-where. Tsubaki wasn’t about to feel bad about dragging  _ them  _ down.

Rantaro wasn’t getting any better, though. If anything, Tsubaki sulking was giving him more reasons to self deprecate. And if there was anyone she didn’t want to feel bad, it would be Rantaro, because he really didn’t want to leave Paris without finding Kasumi. (It had always been that way, in Mexico City and New York and London and the Philippines… Rantaro wanted to stay until they found whoever was lost, and their parents insisted that they leave.) He was blaming himself for Tsubaki being so upset, though, she wasn’t dumb. She could see that.

That was why she decided to stop. Sort of. She didn’t stop throwing her tantrum, really, because that would’ve required communicating with her parents about why she threw it to begin with, and that felt like a conversation that she didn’t really wanna have yet. Still, she wanted to make it up to Rantaro. He had discovered an interest in jewelry recently, but he didn’t have a lot of it yet, so Tsubaki decided that she wanted to go get him some. It probably would’ve ruined the point if she asked her parents.

So she didn’t. It was past eleven at night when she snuck out of their hotel. Honestly, it was a lot easier than she thought it would be. With such a big family they always needed multiple hotel rooms, and the room she was in, she shared with Koharu, who was really really quiet, and Hikaru, who was a super deep sleeper. She didn’t even need to tiptoe past the other rooms. She just buttoned up a coat and slipped out of the hotel.

Barcelona was pretty at night. Maybe that was just the area she was in, but there were all sorts of colourful lights, and the evening breeze was a nice contrast to the pounding sun they’d been in for days. The architecture was super different than in Tokyo, too, so she was having a fun time looking around. Tsubaki found herself smiling as she walked, dodging the cracks in the sidewalk and enjoying herself. She didn’t have a phone yet, but she thought she had seen a store with jewelery somewhere near the hotel, and that was what she was looking for.

It took a little bit longer than she expected it to, but eventually Tsubaki found a small store. The owner was very nice to her (though he did ask where her parents were) but he sold her a couple bracelets after she told him that they were waiting outside. She tucked them into her pocket. Rantaro would like them. They were nice colours, green and blue, the pale shades that he liked a lot.

It took a while for Tsubaki to notice that she was lost. She started off, to begin with, in the direction from which she came. She knew that there were a couple turns along the way, but she didn’t worry about them because she thought she’d know them when she came to them. When she didn’t, and eventually ended up turning whenever it felt right, she still refused to panic, because, well, she couldn’t have gone  _ that  _ far from the hotel, could she? That didn’t feel possible. She wasn’t walking for that long. She would find it eventually.

But eventually was getting longer and longer the more that Tsubaki walked. Her ears were turning cold and that night breeze no longer felt pleasant. It was harder for her to curl up her fingers in her pockets. The longer she walked, the faster she walked, and eventually she was practically running, her breaths loud in her ears and her heart pounding like crazy, and she just kept turning and thinking that it would take her to the hotel, but it wasn’t. The streets were unfamiliar and long and her legs were burning and there were people out, now, illuminated by the dim orange glow of dawn, and their brows furrowed when they looked at her, and Tsubaki forced herself to slow down, because it would be obvious that she was lost if she was rushing, and the thought of some stranger helping her find her way back made her face heat up.

She knew that she should ask for help. But when she looked around and saw eyes on her, her heart pounded harder, and she knew that she couldn’t. Tsubaki bit the inside of her cheek, trying really hard not to cry.

When she came up to a park, which she had never seen before in her life, she dropped down onto a black metal bench, ignoring how cold it was, and watched the sky turn pretty colours with the sunrise while she kept trying not to cry out of frustration.

\---

Rantaro’s lost track of how many times he’s been in a place touching the ground in Spain. Tsubaki got lost almost eight years ago, when he was thirteen. He’s probably come to Barcelona more than he’s gone anywhere else in the world. He must’ve received over twenty phone calls from one contact or another, saying that they’d seen someone who looks like Tsubaki, and he needs to fly in and see.

And of course he will. Why wouldn’t he? Even if he’s a thousand percent sure that it’s another false call, he’d still come, because he’s that desperate. He’s always been. Sometimes, at night, he lies awake thinking about her, how she was upset that whole trip, how she wanted to go home, or go back to France and look for Kasumi. It made sense. Tsubaki took losing Maemi in Mexico City really hard. (Tsubaki was the quieter, of the two, and Maemi was a lot younger than her, so it made a lot of sense.) And she had just been lost, really, right before Kasumi was, obviously Tsubaki was upset.

It was just crushing, seeing her be so downtrodden that whole time, because prior to Kasumi going missing that trip had been all that she could talk about. She was  _ so excited.  _ And then Kasumi got lost, and then Tsubaki spent the rest of the trip glowering at everyone with a permanent frown on her face, and then one night she disappeared. Ran away, probably, that was what their father said. Why they left Spain after only a day of looking for her.

He drags his hands down his face. This isn’t a very good time to be thinking about it. If Tsubaki is alive, and that’s what he’s banking on because she’s got to be, then he needs to prioritise finding her. Not sulking. He’s wasting time if he’s stopping and dwelling on how crappy this all feels.

A hand slides over his, fingers intertwining in a backwards sort of way, and Rantaro remembers that he’s not alone.

“You look pensive, are you alright?” Shuichi tilts his head to the side, grey eyes concerned, and Rantaro manages a smile that he doesn’t really feel. The detective narrows his eyes just the slightest bit, but before either of them can say anything, across the way from them, Chiaki yawns.

“Why’d you wake me up?” She frowns, and her pink eyes glide over to Hajime, who is sitting next to her and leafing through a book with a bored look on his face. When he glances over at her, a smile curves his lips, and Rantaro can tell that he’s not taking the interaction too seriously. “The plane hasn’t even landed yet. I could’ve gotten some quality napping time if you had let me sleep a little longer.” She pauses. “Probably. The point is, I’m still tired.”

“You’re always tired,” Hajime points out with a brow lifted. “Besides, it’ll be worse if I wake you up as we’re getting off. You haven’t been on a plane before, right? You should experience it landing.”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Chiaki grumbles. “When I could be  _ sleeping,  _ there’s nothing interesting about a plane touching the ground. They do that all the time. I beat this video game once where I was landing a plane.”  _ Of course she did, _ Rantaro thinks, smiling more naturally now. Watching Chiaki and Hajime interact is really sweet, he’s glad that he and Shuichi opted to bring them along this time around. Being back in Barcelona this time might not be so draining with them here. “This isn’t any different, except it’s in VR this time. VR is cool. But there’s something nice about the classics, in my opinion.”

“Ah, virtual reality, you mean?” Shuichi asks, and Chiaki nods her head, smiling slightly at him. She’s a very gentle person. Kindhearted and mellow. (Unless she’s talking to Hajime, at times, but Rantaro is pretty sure she only acts differently around the guy because she’s making fun of him.) “I tried it, once, because Miu asked me to, but I felt really nauseous afterwards.” He sounds almost embarrassed saying it, but his grip on Rantaro’s hand doesn’t tighten at all, so it doesn’t actually seem to be something that he’s upset about.

Chiaki nods again. “It’s not for everyone. You should try playing Minecraft.”

“Huh?” Shuichi frowns. “What does that have to do with…”

“Y’know.” She looks expectant, and Shuichi just gives her a confused look for a moment before she sighs. “Sometimes Minecraft gives people headaches who are sensitive to that stuff. I’d recommend Call of Duty too, but you don’t seem like a gun person.” She pauses, tapping her lower lip with a finger. “Maybe… Portal? You’d like that, being a detective, since there’s all the puzzle solving… maybe.”

Hajime, who’s returned to his book, gives Chiaki a playful glance. “There you go diffusing otherwise normal statements again,” he teases, and Chiaki smiles but doesn’t respond. She has a remarkable deadpan. This is the first time, despite going to a school with them for a year, that Rantaro has really spent any significant amount of time with the couple, but it’s still a little weird how many of their mannerisms that he’s never noticed before. Chiaki’s impassive look, for example. She’s always struck Rantaro as really sincere, but she could honestly be thinking just about anything right now and he would have no idea.

“Usually it’s girls who are really sensitive to those things, though.” Chiaki mumbles thoughtfully. “Are you a girl, Shuichi?”

“Ah? N-No?” Shuichi shakes his head.

“That sounds like a question,” Chiaki muses. “Are you not sure?”

“No, I’m sure! I’m not a girl.” The detective assures, more firmly this time, and Chiaki nods, appearing satisfied. Rantaro doesn’t miss the meaningful look Hajime shoots in Shuichi’s direction, nor the very subtle headshake from his boyfriend, but he decides to ignore it, in favour of respecting the privacy of whatever moment was just shared between the two of them. Instead, he focuses on Chiaki, who is yawning again and rubbing her eyes with one hand.

“You get tired pretty easily, huh, Chiaki?” He asks, and when she blinks at him, he can’t help chuckling a little bit. “Napping frequently can leave you feeling pretty groggy, did you know that?”   
  


“I’m always groggy.” Chiaki mumbles. She pulls up the hood of her sweater, pouting. “So I always take naps.”

“That’s called a catch twenty two, isn’t it?” Shuichi tilts his head to the side, looking thoughtful, and Rantaro reaches out to ruffle his boyfriend’s hair, for no reason other than he wants to. The detective pulls away, indignantly muttering something about how much time it took him to fix his hair that morning, and Rantaro smiles in response. Shuichi is, at the best and worst of times, extremely cute. “You’re always groggy, so you take naps, but when you take naps, you get more groggy.” He specifies, looking at Chiaki as he smooths down his hair with one hand.

“Hm.” For a moment, Chiaki seems to be considering that. “Well, I’m a YouTuber, so I don’t need to fix it, I think.” She nods, seeming satisfied with that, even though she just tacked on an  _ I think  _ to the end, which suggests that she’s not actually sure. “Anyway, I’m gonna go back to sleep. Wake me up when we need to get off.”

“Wait, Chiaki, no,” Hajime looks up from his book, but it’s too late; she’s nodded off and dropped onto his shoulder. Rantaro’s not sure that  _ anybody  _ can fall asleep so quickly, even a notorious sleeper like Chiaki, but Hajime already looks resigned to his fate. He’s always been a bit of enabler. (Not that Rantaro is one to talk, though.) Chuckling, Rantaro shakes his head, and meets Shuichi’s gaze again. The detective is smiling too.

\---

Tsubaki was so cold.

It wasn’t even that cold outside, but she felt like she was freezing to death. She couldn’t close her hands into fists anymore, and it felt like her coat was paper thin. Her teeth had been chattering for so long that she couldn’t even feel it anymore. She tried standing up and down a few times to get her blood pumping, but it wasn’t helping, not really. She wasn’t feeling the best in her head, either; she was tired, and she was out of anger at her parents by then. At that moment, all she wanted was for her parents (or probably just her brother, actually) to show up and take her out of there, back into the warmth.

She was hungry, too, and really tired. She missed her bed at the hotel. Scratch that, she missed her bed back in  _ Japan.  _ At this point, she didn’t like Barcelona anymore. She didn’t want to be here. She just wanted to go back home. Even back to Paris would have been okay, to look for Kasumi. She just wanted to be back with her family. This was a terrible idea, why did she think that there wasn’t anything wrong with her plan to go out all by herself and buy something for her brother in a totally foreign country that she had, prior to that trip, never stepped foot in in her life?   
  


When Tsubaki ran her hands down her face, resting her elbows in her lap, she found that her hands were freezing. Her tongue darted out from between her lips to moisten them, even though she knew that the action would just make them chap. Especially in weather like this. By this point, she was too tired to cry, which was good, because if she did start crying, she was sure that the water from her eyes would make her feel even colder.  _ She wanted… to go inside. _

A voice from nearby broke Tsubaki out of her reverie. They were speaking in Spanish, so it was difficult for her to understand them at first, but after concentrating for a moment, she realised what they were saying. Asking, rather.

“Are you lost, love?” Tsubaki lifted her head from her hands, shivering, and made eye contact with one of the women standing a little ways down the path from the bench she was sitting on. There were two women standing there, she realised- they were old, must’ve been fifty (or even sixty?) years old, and they had kind eyes. The one who spoke was taller, and a bit thinner; her hands appeared more weathered than the hands of the other woman, who was certainly more stout. They both had dark hair and eyes, but they were without a doubt not related. “Are your parents around?”

Well, this was awfully awkward. Tsubaki didn’t want to just tell them that she was. Of course, all she had to say was yes, and that she didn’t know how to get back to the hotel, and then they’d take her to the police, but… her stomach wobbled a bit at the thought. Somehow it filled her with anxiety, the prospect of explaining to the police what had happened. They would be mad at her, for sure. And no kidding; she had been so irresponsible, sneaking out in the middle of the night. She chewed her lip.

“You look awfully cold,” the other woman remarked warmly, and the way her eyes crinkled at the edges reminded Tsubaki of hot chocolate. “Can you speak Spanish? Do you understand what we’re saying?” Tsubaki was offended for a moment before remembering that she wasn’t only Japanese, she also  _ looked  _ extremely Japanese. She clutched her hands together in an attempt to warm them as she tried to put together a response in her head.

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” she blurted in Spanish, and then cringed mentally. Really? What a dumb thing to say; her parents didn’t care. Even if they did, this was  _ hardly  _ the time to be worrying about it. Besides, she was eleven! She wasn’t supposed to be worrying about this kind of thing. She bit the inside of her cheek, cursing herself for the tactless response. She really hoped they didn’t walk away because of that.

Thankfully, neither of them seemed offended. The taller woman smiled. “Well, my name is Epifania, and this is Consuelo, my wife.” She gestured at the woman beside her, and Tsubaki thought,  _ that makes sense.  _ “There isn’t much to share about us, to be honest, but,” Epifania chuckled. “If you tell us your name, we won’t be strangers anymore, in my opinion.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Consuelo remarked softly.

“Shhh,” Epifania swatted her wife’s arm. “Loopholes.”

Tsubaki couldn’t help but giggle at that. She knew that trusting strangers was pretty dumb, especially at her age, but the way they interacted, she couldn’t help but want to trust them. She swallowed. There wouldn’t be any harm in telling them her name. Besides, if they were taking her to the police, then they would need to know her name eventually. “Tsubaki,” she said finally, figuring they’d want to know her given name, being from a European country. “And I guess… that counts.”

\---

Rantaro’s been up and down every street around the hotel that his family stayed in a million of times. He could probably walk it with his eyes closed, counting his steps as his only method of navigation, and he would probably be able to get to the place that he wants to go. Even so, he’s never once booked a room at the hotel in question on any of his return trips. He supposes he’s just not up to going back to that hotel and facing the memories that are undoubtedly lingering there. The idea that he could get the same room that he had back when he was thirteen… absolutely unthinkable. He couldn’t even take the chance.

(Shame, it was a nice hotel.)

They’re getting to a point where Shuichi’s been to Barcelona plenty of times himself. Of course, as a detective, Shuichi has a pretty good memory to begin with, so maybe it’s not so surprising that he knows how to navigate. At least the few blocks in the perimeter of the hotel. That’s why, when Shuichi suggests that they search separately this time, Rantaro ignores the twinge of discomfort it causes.

“Just for those couple of blocks, of course,” Shuichi smiles slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, ah, think it might be easier if we split up to cover a little bit more ground.” He hums. “If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t have to happen, but I think we might as well try.” He’s so methodical. Rantaro can’t help but feel convinced, even though his stomach hurts a bit at the prospect of searching alone. Not that he can’t do it, it’s just the thought of Shuichi being off by himself on one of these trips… every time he and his sisters split up, they always ended up disappearing. He doesn’t want that to be Shuichi.

Still, what Shuichi is saying makes  _ sense,  _ and anyway, Rantaro’s being irrational. “Yeah, of course.” He forces himself to grin, reaches out and ruffles Shuichi’s hair. The indignant huff that the detective lets out, swatting away his hand, almost entirely alleviates the anxiety. Shuichi is real. Solid. Nothing’s going to happen to him. “Text me when you get back to the hotel, alright? I’ll hurry back.”

When Shuichi nods, Rantaro does too, and then there’s nothing else to say, so he clears his throat, feeling a bit awkward, before turning around and starting off. He can’t stop himself from looking over his shoulder a couple of times, checking to make sure that Shuichi is still there. When the detective disappears around the corner, though, that’s no longer an option, and Rantaro is forced to stop thinking about it.

Well, he might as well be attentive. He starts walking forward, forcing his gaze to remain on the sidewalk in front of him. After a moment, it gets easier to breathe. This is familiar, searching by himself. It’s what he’s used to, actually, and there’s something undeniably easy about it. In truth, Rantaro doesn’t mind solitude. He likes being alone. (He wouldn’t call himself an introvert, necessarily? Just, prior to dating Shuichi, most of his time was spent alone, and that was something he was pretty comfortable with. He doesn’t like dragging other people down. When he’s by himself, that’s not something that he has to worry about.)

What he’s worried about, he supposes, is losing anyone else. He doesn’t mind the thought of being by himself for a while.

His mind wanders after a while, even though he’s trying to pay attention to searching. It hasn’t been all that long since they found Kasumi. That’s probably the biggest reason why Rantaro doesn’t have very high hopes for this trip; he doesn’t trust his luck to hold up. He’s been trying so hard not to think about it, but he can’t shake this idea that something might’ve happened to her. Out of every country he’s revisited, other than the Philippines, he’s been to Spain the most. Not a trace of her, no matter where he’s looked. No matter how many leads he’s taken.

Rantaro huffs out a breath, running a hand through his hair, and realises that he doesn’t recognise his surroundings. After a moment of looking around, he sighs. He’s not far off, but he definitely lost track of what he was doing. He really needs to stop doing that. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he turns back around and gets back on track. This time, he keeps his mind from wandering so that he can finish off his part of the search. It doesn’t yield any results. Not that he was really expecting it to, but it’s disappointing regardless.

He’s been looking for a while. Is Shuichi really not done yet? Maybe he’s texted, and Rantaro didn’t feel the vibration because he was so lost in thought… it’s happened on occasion. Thinking that this is probably the case, as he heads back towards the hotel, Rantaro reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. No, no missed messages. That’s weird. He hasn’t missed any calls, either. He can’t help frowning a bit. Maybe Shuichi’s just being more thorough than usual? They’ve been separated for the better part of two hours, though… Rantaro quickens his pace.

The spot in front of the hotel, which they designated before as a meeting place, is empty of people, except for a couple of teenagers off to his right. Rantaro ignores them and does a couple other scans of the area, thinking that maybe Shuichi is here and maybe he just didn’t notice him. It doesn’t seem like he’s anywhere to be found, though. Biting the inside of his cheek, Rantaro pulls his phone back out again and quickly types out a text.

_ [Hey, I’m at the hotel. Are you still looking?] _

Five minutes later, after receiving no response, he shoots another text.

_ [Shu? You alright?] _

Shuichi keeps his ringer up pretty high when they’re out traveling. He doesn’t want to miss out on any texts from anyone, and when they’re outside, it’s harder to feel the vibrations. He’s conscientious like that. There’s no way that he couldn’t have seen these texts.

_ [Shuichi? I’m worried. Did you find something?] _

_ [If it turns out that your phone died, or something, I’m gonna be mad] _

_ [Well, no I won’t] _

_ [ahfhsfkl just answer please] _

Huffing, Rantaro rolls his shoulder and presses the call button. He hopes he’s freaking out over nothing. Maybe Shuichi just turned off his ringer for some reason. Maybe there was a weird glitch in the matrix and he just didn’t hear the texts coming in.

The phone rings. Rantaro counts one, two, three, four, five…

_ “...” _

_ (in the background) “Shuichi, I think it’s ready to record.” _

_ “Huh? Oh! Ah… uhm, hi, you’ve reached Shuichi Saihara, I’m, uhm, not available right now, but you can call back immediately after if it’s really important… or leave a message, that works too.” _

He still has the same voicemail that he had all through high school. Rantaro smiles a bit to himself. What a dork. The smile falls, however, when he remembers the implications of hearing that voicemail. He hangs up quickly before pressing call again, jamming the phone against his ear.

_ “Shuichi, I think it’s-” _

He ends the call. Damn, he’s not going to pick up, is he? Rantaro swallows down the swell of panic that rises with the realisation, though it’s getting significantly harder to do at this point, and without thinking too much into it, starts to walk in the direction that Shuichi went in before. He’ll just look for him. He’s got to be around somewhere. It’ll be fine.

After about half an hour of searching, Rantaro thinks,  _ it’s not fine.  _ Shuichi isn’t anywhere. Unless he just keeps missing the guy, for some weird reason, but that doesn’t make any  _ sense.  _ He’s combed this place up and down and all that’s happened is his feet have begun to ache and his stomach has started twisting up in even worse knots. With a sigh, he pulls out his phone again, figuring he might as well try calling again.

It rings once. Then, from behind him, Rantaro hears…

It’s a song he recognises only because Shuichi’s played it for him before. One of those emo American bands that he likes so much. Rantaro really doesn’t care for it, but he appreciates that Shuichi enjoys them, and- it’s awfully faint, almost like… a ring tone, actually, but-

Rantaro flips around, and his gaze lands on the phone.

He doesn’t register walking over, or ending the call, but suddenly his hands are shaking, and he’s holding the phone with both hands. It’s Shuichi’s, without a doubt. Three missed calls and several unread messages. All from him. Besides that, though, the lock screen is a picture of Rantaro. A dumb picture, to be sure; one that Shuichi took when Rantaro wasn’t looking, but… it’s definitely Shuichi’s. Which means that- that he’s-

The whole world rushes past him as he shoots up in bed, hands clutching at the blanket over him so hard that he barely has any feeling in his fingers anymore.

\---

Even if Tsubaki wanted to tell Epifania and Consuelo the truth about what happened, she didn’t have the words. She knew a  _ fair amount  _ of Spanish, but it was nothing to boast about, and certainly nothing that she could use to communicate to them that she deliberately snuck out of her hotel in the middle of the night because she felt guilty for sulking. Beyond that, she was embarrassed about it. The desperation from a couple weeks ago had worn off by then, leaving only anxiety and dread in the pit of her stomach every time she thought about talking to the two women about why she was lost- and after that, the police, and after that, her family.

That was the reason she kept quiet for so long, actually. Consuelo and Epifania lived in a tiny little apartment not far from the park where they found her. That morning, they were heading to the park to feed the pigeons who they said always hung out there at around eight.

“Of course,” Consuelo laughed. “They’ll come anyway, even if we’re a little late or a little early, because they like bread.” She gestured at the counter while she spoke, where there was a bag of bread crumbs placed. “We try to break off little pieces of our bread every time we eat it, so that we can give it to them.” The Spanish she was using was very simple, which Tsubaki appreciated, but she was intuitive. In the times when Consuelo and Epifania were talking to each other, and not bothering to slow down or speak more simply, Tsubaki still found that she was able to understand them, for the most part. And she was learning words, too.

Which meant it was getting easier to communicate. But the more easy it got to communicate with them, the less excuses she had to avoid telling them what had happened. The fact that she was even staying with them to begin with was already pretty improper, on her part. She hadn’t told them the truth, and she knew without having to ask that Epifania and Consuelo weren’t very well off. They seemed to be happy and comfortable, but there were little indicators all over the place that told Tsubaki that she was not only imposing, but putting more of a strain on the finances of a couple of kind old women who took her in on a whim.

She had to tell them.

For another couple weeks, Tsubaki managed to keep putting it off. But after about a month since her family presumably left Spain, she finally bullied herself into telling them. Her Spanish wasn’t perfect at all; a lot of her sentences were halting, and she was certain that she used plenty of words incorrectly, and there was a lot that she didn’t even know if it was appropriate to tell them. About her other sisters getting lost, about Kasumi, about Rantaro… but there were also the parts that she absolutely had to, about sneaking out of the hotel, and about eventually stumbling upon the park… and also about her parents, and coming from Japan, and her family overall.

After she finished talking, Consuelo and Epifania were quiet. Pensive, Tsubaki supposed, but it made her nervous anyway. She wanted to know what they were thinking immediately. After everything she said, though, they probably needed a minute to process what they had been told.

“Do you want us to buy you a plane ticket back to Japan?” Epifania asked after a moment. She laced her fingers together around her mug of tea, leaning forward to look closer at Tsubaki. “I assume you would’ve asked us to take you to the police if that was what you wanted.”

Well, honestly, Tsubaki thought that going to the police was the wisest option, but… she didn’t really want to, Epifania was right. She looked down at her lap. She knew that it was silly, but the thought of talking to the  _ police  _ about what had happened felt mortifying somehow. It was obviously the right choice, and even so… her stomach clenched when she considered it. She didn’t want to face their disappointment. They’d probably be even more upset if they found out years later and learned that she kept from talking to them out of anxiety, but… she shook her head regardless.

“No, I don’t want the police,” she said shakily. “But I don’t want you to buy a ticker for me, either.” There was no way she was going to ask that of them. If they even  _ had  _ the money for it, they should be saving it for things that were more important for their own lives. A flight to Japan was expensive! There were so many other things that they could use that money for. Plus, Tsubaki’s family  _ had  _ money. A lot of it, actually. There was no way that she could let these two pay for her trip back home.

“Hm.” Epifania frowned. “There aren’t a lot of other options, Tsubaki.” Her tone was serious. “I don’t know how to get in contact with your parents, and if you don’t either, then I can’t-”

“She could always stay with us,” Consuelo suggested. “Until her family comes to find her. You mentioned that your brother has been searching, didn’t you?”

“Consuelo, her brother is thirteen,” Epifania said quietly, perhaps so that Tsubaki wouldn’t hear. (She did though, she heard perfectly well, but she pretended not to.) “Is it really alright to expect him to find her? Should that not be her parent’s responsibility?”

“Uhm, my,” Tsubaki fumbled for the right words to say in Spanish. “My parents aren’t, going to look for me.” She felt so awkward saying it, feeling Epifania and Consuelo’s gaze on her, that she had to avert her gaze. Even if her parents hadn’t already been flippant about Kikuko and Aki and Rui and Kasumi and Maemi, they probably wouldn’t lose much sleep over her being lost regardless. Her sisters were all wonderfully unique and charming in their own ways. Rui was compassionate, Hikaru was determined, Kasumi was hilarious, Maemi was charismatic, Mina was smart… the list went on and on. Tsubaki had positive traits, naturally- she doubted there was a person in the world without them- but she also had a major case of middle child syndrome.

In general, she was pretty invisible in her family. She wasn’t extraordinarily quiet, not like Rui and Koharu were, but she still seemed to blend into the walls somehow. She could be in a room for hours, and nobody would notice that she was there. Her parents would adapt quickly to her being gone, and after the tantrum she threw… they probably wouldn’t be missing her too hard.

“But Rantaro will,” she amended, clearing her throat. “So, I want to wait for him.”

Consuelo’s gaze was understanding, but Epifania’s was thoughtful, and it was difficult to tell how she was feeling, or what she was going to say. Then again, Tsubaki had never really been very good at reading faces.

“I don’t want to impose, though, any further than I already have.” Tsubaki mumbled. “So if you don’t want me to stay with you, then-”

“No.” Epifania interrupted, and then smiled slightly as though to ease Tsubaki’s nerves. “You can stay with us as long as you need.”

\---

Rantaro chokes on his first breath upon waking up, disoriented to the point that for a long moment he’s not sure where he is.

He has to take time to breathe, and like, really breathe, not just the choked up half gasps he’s always prone to after a nightmare, before his heart rate settles enough for him to get a grip on his surroundings. He’s inside, to begin with. The lamp is on, and everything is a little bit yellowish, but he can see the inside of the room he’s sleeping in. A different hotel room, in a different hotel, a good distance away from the one his family stayed in when Tsubaki went missing. (The same hotel he and Shuichi always stay in, when they come to Barcelona.)

It takes a while, but eventually he does catch his breath, and then he squeezes his eyes shut. Blood is rushing past his ears and his heart is beating so hard that it hurts, bad, like a mallet slamming against the inside of his rib cage over and over and over again. There’s a lump in his throat so thick that it hurts to swallow, and his throat is dry, too, except right near his uvula, which feels thick and heavy. He’s okay, though, it was just a dream. A bit of an overreaction considering that he’s had similar nightmares before. Maybe because they’re  _ in  _ Barcelona right now, it’s taking him off his guard more than it would usually.

“Rantaro?” He finally registers Shuichi’s voice, off to his left, and swivels his head around. Shuichi is awake, fully; sitting at the desk by the bed here. He’s got a couple files open in front of him, but his arm is propped up on the back of his chair and his entire torso is angled towards Rantaro. “Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?”

It’s a bit of a dumb question (obviously, he had a nightmare) but Rantaro understands why Shuichi would ask. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions. He feels a bit stupid when he nods, though. “I’m fine.” The words come so automatically, and he’s so tired, he doesn’t bother trying to rearrange them into something less overtly dishonest. His throat closes up at the thought of even trying to talk about his dream right now.

Shuichi looks at him for a moment longer, his gaze inscrutable, and then gets up from the seat, dusting off his pants. Rantaro sneaks a glance at the digital clock in the room and sees that it’s nearing three in the morning. Shuichi really shouldn’t be awake working right now. Actually, he shouldn’t be awake in general… though, had he been sleeping, he definitely would’ve been woken up by Rantaro shooting out of bed.

The mattress dips very slightly when Shuichi crawls onto it, reaching out and putting a hand on the comforter, where it’s still resting on Rantaro’s lap.

“Can I touch you?” He asks quietly, and Rantaro closes his eyes, but nods. Shuichi has always been so very gentle after nightmares, or panic attacks- maybe because he has plenty of them himself- but that doesn’t make it any less overwhelming at times to be on the receiving end of that consideration. Since his eyes are closed, Rantaro feels it rather than sees it as Shuichi pulls away the comforter. It slides with some difficulty out of Rantaro’s clenched fists, and he tries to relax his fingers rather than ball them back up again when they land in his lap.

He opens his eyes when Shuichi’s arms curve around his waist. Usually he’ll do that, and Shuichi will hook his arms around his shoulders, but it’s probably just the fact that he’s (still) shaking that’s causing the deviation from the norm. Rantaro allows himself to be guided back so that he’s lying on his side, with Shuichi spooning him from behind. Against his back, he can feel the rise and fall of his boyfriend’s chest, and even his heartbeat, which is a bit faster than it would be if Shuichi was perfectly calm, but still slower than his own, and unquestionably soothing.

The light remains on, which is a waste of power to be sure, but Rantaro is glad that it does, because being in the dark seems unbearable right now.

“I dreamed about you,” he finds himself saying, even though he doesn’t really want to. Even though he’s conscious of the worlds coming out of his mouth, they feel like cotton. Hard to push out and hard to swallow around. He doesn’t really understand himself. It sounds like he’s speaking in some foreign language. Shuichi hums behind him, and Rantaro feels the detective’s nose pressing into the crook of his neck. “Nothing abnormal. You suggested that we split up to cover more ground and then I found your phone on the sidewalk.”

“Mm.” Shuichi’s chest vibrates with the sound. “I’m sorry.” Rantaro can feel his lips moving against his shoulder, and it sends a shiver down his spine, but only really because of the nightmare. He’s too scattered to be thinking about anything else right now. “I’m okay, and I’m here.”

“I know.” Rantaro’s voice sounds choked up to his own ears and he really doesn’t like it. He’s not sure he’d forgive himself if he started crying right now. “I hate the fact that I-” he breaks off. He’s expressed before that he wouldn’t be able to handle it if anything happened to Shuichi, there’s no need to repeat himself. “Sorry. I’m-”

“Shhh, why are you apologising? C’mon.” Shuichi presses a soft kiss to his shoulder. “You’re okay.”

Rantaro closes his eyes again for a moment, trying to internalise what Shuichi’s saying, but eventually he huffs, frustrated that he still feels shaken, and shifts around in his boyfriend’s arms to face him. The detective’s eyes are open still, wide and grey and worried, and when Rantaro wraps his arms around him, he finds that he’s real and solid and warm. It was just a nightmare. Shuichi’s right here.

One of Shuichi’s hands slips from around his waist and up to his face, molding itself over his jaw like it belongs there. (It sort of does.) He offers a tiny smile, and Rantaro finds the energy to return it, despite the fact that a couple of tears are escaping against his wishes. “I’m right here,” he promises again, and Rantaro responds by leaning forward and capturing his lips in a kiss.

\---

A shrill ringing sound marked the end of the school day, and Tsubaki swung her bag over her shoulder, striding to the door. She didn’t have to bother with the flurry of movement and papers from all around the room because she already packed up long before the bell went off. She was ready to get back home and start on homework. There was definitely  _ way too much  _ for her to get done considering that the school year had only just started, but she wasn’t sure what she was expecting, letting Consuelo talk her into signing up for upper secondary education. She wasn’t even really planning on attending university- not in Spain, at least.

She had turned sixteen only recently. It was a nice day. The three of them (meaning her, Epifania, and Consuelo) went out for ice cream, and then caught a movie. It was nice spending time like that. Between school, homework, and friends, Tsubaki didn’t always have time for it as much as she did back when she was still in compulsory. She had been in Barcelona for five years by then, though she really wasn’t trying to think too much about it.

On her way out the door, she heard a call of her name and slowed her brisk pace, shooting a small smile over her shoulder as Carmen appeared at her side. She met Carmen two years ago, maybe? It wasn’t as though she was paying too much attention to that stuff. She wasn’t trying to get too close to anybody, because she was still planning on leaving Barcelona as soon as her brother came to get her, but it was admittedly a lot nicer having friends than trying to abstain. So long as she didn’t get too close, that was fine.

Carmen looped her arm through Tsubaki’s and beamed. “What do your plans look like after school today?” She asked brightly, and Tsubaki shook her head as they started off down the hall. They usually walked home together anyway, because they were in the same apartment complex, so this wasn’t a hassle or anything, but Carmen asked the same question every day. The other girl had a pretty active social life.

“Homework,” stressed Tsubaki with a mock-irritated expression, and Carmen laughed.

“Fair enough, but if you want to tear yourself away for a bit, Melisa and I will be at the park.” The very same park, Tsubaki recalled, where she met Consuelo and Epifania. She curled her upper lip. “I get it, you’re very studious,” Carmen conceded. “But you’re always welcome, you know.”

“I appreciate the constant offer,” Tsubaki teased, and Carmen giggled. Their steps synchronised as they walked down the steps in front of their school. The weather was nice. Still warm with the lingering heat of summer but cool too, enough that she felt comfortable wearing a thin sweater and leggings. Days like these were her favourite, where she could banter with Carmen without worrying about the implications, and feel as light and breezy as the gentle wind. She liked being invited to hang out with them, too. It made her feel important. Something that she wasn’t so used to before coming to Barcelona.

Her chest ached terribly and more than anything Tsubaki wanted Rantaro to turn up around the corner and take her home. He would be eighteen now. An adult. Somewhere out in the world, looking for her. But she had to admit that, even after five years, she could still see the things that had made her fall in love with Barcelona to begin with.

\---

“I think,” Chiaki pauses, and the silence is almost dramatic with how long it takes. Rantaro watches her as she peers over a map, her brow furrowed very slightly and her lips tugged into a pout. “You need to stop thinking about it like she ran away.”

“She  _ did  _ run away, though, didn’t she?” Hajime frowns over at his girlfriend, and the look she shoots him is withering. Underneath the table, Shuichi squeezes Rantaro’s hand, and Rantaro squeezes back. They’re still in Barcelona for a couple more days, but Chiaki approached them in the lobby this morning and demanded that they tell her how she could help. (She finished off the request with a “I dunno, probably” and Rantaro knew that he had to brief her on what they were up to.) “She left the hotel in the middle of the night.”

“She was annoyed and upset that her sister got lost, why would she run away? To prove a point?” Chiaki huffs. “You don’t get girls at all.”

“I don’t think it’s a girl thing?”   
  


“I know. I’m joking around.” Chiaki says this, but she is entirely lacking the countenance of a person who is joking around. “It sounds like Tsubaki was mad at your parents for not spending more time trying to find Kasumi. The only reason to run away and get lost in that case would be because you want to make them spend time to find you. That’s why I’d do it. But if she knows ‘cause of Kasumi that it wouldn’t happen, then she wouldn’t be trying to get lost. There’d be no point. The best way to say what she was trying to say would be to stick around. I think she left for a different reason.”

Rantaro watches Shuichi nod his head, a thoughtful look clouding his grey eyes. “I think I understand what you’re saying.” The detective muses, touching his chin with the hand that isn’t holding Rantaro’s. “I wonder if she was planning on returning. She snuck out, of course, but I imagine she had a reason in her head. The anger at Rantaro’s parents probably had more to do with, ah, why she didn’t tell anybody.”   
  


“So if we frame this as some kind of trip into the night- with a specific purpose- gone wrong, where does that get us?” Hajime asks. He scoots forward and looks down at the map that Chiaki is gazing over, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. Rantaro considers his question.

“Whatever she was looking for,” Rantaro begins to say. “It probably took her pretty far from the hotel for her to have gotten lost. Which means that looking around the hotel probably isn’t the wisest idea, right? She’s bound to be somewhere far away.”

“Uh-huh. If you narrow down the reason she left, you can start narrowing down the places she might have gone.” Chiaki smiles. “That’s what I think, at least.”

“You’re brilliant,” Hajime tells her, and the look she gives him in return is soft, but Rantaro isn’t paying attention to them. His brain is working again, that drowsy cobweb feeling he’s had since his nightmare finally starting to wear off. If not to prove a point, why would Tsubaki have left?

He can tell that Shuichi is thinking pretty hard about this too. They’ll figure it out, Rantaro thinks. One way or the other. They’re not going to go home until they find her. Not this time.

\---

“Wow,” Melisa gaped at Tsubaki from over the pillow she was clutching to her chest. “You really think he’s gonna come for you, after all this time?”

Tsubaki shifted, feeling a bit awkward with all the attention on her suddenly. It was just her, Carmen, and Melisa- like it was usually during these hangouts- but it was different maybe because of the hour (it was one in the morning) and because they were sitting on the floor of Carmen’s room. The rug they were sitting on was comfortable, actually, rough in the way that soft things got after years of use but still pleasant to rub her legs against, and though there were only three of them they had been jumping between topics all night.

Somehow, though, the conversation ended up turning over to Tsubaki.

“I never knew your backstory was so sad, Baki,” Carmen frowned. She was doing her curly black hair into thin braids, messy but nice looking as they fell over her shoulders, but she was focused primarily on Tsubaki. “I think I’m gonna cry, that sounds so so so scary. Can you imagine getting lost and then your family just hopping on a plane without you?”

“Yeah, what’s with that?” Frowned Melisa. She reached up to her nose to adjust glasses that had long since been discarded and ended up scratching the bridge instead. “How could they just leave?”   
  


“That’s why I was so angry,” Tsubaki whispered, messing with a couple loose strings on the bottom of her shirt. “They did it to Kikuko, y’know, and she was six. Losing Maemi sucked even more- I mean, she was my baby sister. Like, they’re all my sisters, but Maemi was my biological, literal baby sister. And they just took off the day after she disappeared in Mexico City, like it didn’t mean anything.” She sighed. “Kasumi was right after that, and I think that’s what messed me up so bad. We barely stuck around to look for her in France. It was like with Rui, they didn’t even notice she was gone until we were too far away to remember when she disappeared.”

“That’s messed uuuup,” Carmen groaned. “If my daughter disappeared I would stay there forever looking for her.”

“Or go to the police!” Melisa chimed in, and under her breath said a couple Spanish swear words that Tsubaki knew well enough to recognise but not to use. “Hey, but, you shouldn’t feel bad, for what happened, y’know?” She sat up straight, putting her pillow to the side. “You were eleven! How could your parents have expected to deal with that kind of thing?”

Carmen nodded. “Yeah, it totally wasn’t your fault.”

“Oh, I…” Tsubaki wasn’t sure how much she could agree with that. She didn’t remember that night all that well (something something, trauma and repressed memories, whatever. She didn’t  _ wanna  _ remember it) but whenever she thought about it she could register this bone-deep sensation of cold that made her wanna shove everything far, far away. She left the hotel that night of her own accord. It was her fault.

“C’mon, agree with me, it’s easier.” Melisa teased. “I won’t stop until I get my way.”

“Mhmm, it’s true.” Carmen nodded. “Melisa isn’t nice like me, she’ll just keep going until you agree.”

Despite the lingering memory of the cold, Tsubaki couldn’t help laughing. “Alright, I guess,” she allowed. The smiles she got as a reward were bright, and she felt her chest squeezing. Carmen and Melisa were good friends.

And at three, when they all fell asleep, she couldn’t help feeling grateful that Melisa pushed her to agree with it, because it was the first time she ever ended a conversation about what happened on a positive note.

\---

“Ah, hold on a moment,” Shuichi stops walking, and Rantaro stops with him, looking over at his boyfriend in an attempt to figure out the reason for the interruption. “I dropped my pen.”

As the detective leans forward and lifts the offending writing utensil from the ground, Rantaro can’t help surveying the area again. He’s never been here before, that he remembers specifically. It isn’t that he and Shuichi  _ haven’t  _ looked around in other places, in other areas, but this whole street has that shimmery feeling places get when Rantaro hasn’t seen them yet. He doesn’t have a photographic memory, obviously, but he does have a good eye for figuring out whether or not he’s visited a place in the past, which is really helpful considering what he’s trying to do.

Hajime and Chiaki helped them look all of yesterday, but today they’re off doing touristy things again. It probably consists of Chiaki dragging Hajime along to look at things and Hajime pretending that he’s not as excited about it as she is, but it honestly doesn’t sound like a bad use of their time. Rantaro can’t even remember the last time he went somewhere because he wanted to, and not because he thought one of his sisters might be there.

When Shuichi straightens up again and shoots a smile his way, Rantaro notices that he seems a bit tired. “You okay?” He asks. Last night was nightmare free, so Shuichi shouldn’t have any reason to seem so drained. Unless he was up late of his own accord, though, Rantaro is pretty sure the detective was in bed with him the whole night.

“Uhm, yeah, fine,” Shuichi shakes his head. “I woke up in the middle of the night because Kyoko sent me a news article.” Kyoko, Rantaro imagines, as in Kyoko Kirigiri, the other Ultimate Detective from Hope’s Peak Academy and a mentor of Shuichi’s. Also someone who works with Mukuro, he thinks, but he doesn’t remember specifically whether she does or not. “I should have just gone back to sleep, but I was curious.”

“Yeah? What was it about?” The two of them start walking again, and Shuichi links their hands, his eyebrows drawn together in thought.

“I’m sure you’ve heard something about this? Maybe just from Maki, but it’s been appearing more and more on regular news channels. There’s this story of some kind of killer who is marking their victims with a bunch of flowers.” Shuichi’s smile is a bit tight. “It’s odd, isn’t it? Like something you’d get from a mystery novel. Maki reckons it’s an assassin, but the killer certainly seems to have a type.”

“What kind of flower?” Rantaro asks. Shuichi’s eyes narrow, as though he’s trying to remember.

“Ah, I don’t… I should double check on that, uhm, maybe hyacinth…? That doesn’t sound right, though.” He frowns. “That’s going to bother me all day. I’ll look into it and get back to you.”

“Got it,” Rantaro smiles, though the case that Shuichi just described has successfully managed to pique his interest. He’s far from a detective (that’s Shuichi’s shtick, after all) but he can’t help wondering about the details of the case anyway. It sounds like a tough nut to crack, especially if Maki is looking into it… maybe he’d better do some research of his-

“Excuse me,” Rantaro stops walking. The person who spoke spoke in Spanish- which isn’t a problem since he’s fluent- but he doesn’t recognise their voice. It might just be a stranger coming up to ask them for directions, in which case they’ll be no help at all, but he and Shuichi turn around anyway, coming face to face with a couple older women. One of them, the shorter one and presumably the one who spoke, had eyes that resembled hot chocolate. Her smile was inquisitive, but gentle, and soft. “I hate to be rude, so please correct me if I’m wrong, but I saw the green hair and I just thought- well, is it possible that you might be Rantaro Amami?”

_ ...she seems a bit on the older side to be a business contact of my father’s,  _ Rantaro thinks. “Yeah, that’s me,” he smiles, pretending that the nervous  _ thud-thud-thud  _ is because he’s talking to a stranger, and not because there are only two reasons why someone would just approach him out of nowhere, and one of them is that they’re acquainted with his-

“My name is Consuelo,” the woman introduces herself. “And this is Epifania, my wife.” The taller woman smiles and waves when her name is said. “You’re here looking for your sister, aren’t you?”

“Tsubaki,” clarifies Epifania, even though it’s far from necessary. “You’re looking for Tsubaki.”

“Yeah,” Rantaro echoes. His throat feels so much more dry than it did a second ago. “Did you… do you know her?”

Epifania and Consuelo exchange a look. “She’s been staying with us for the past eight years,” Consuelo says. “Can we take you to her?”

\---

Tsubaki rested her arm on the desk, listening to the soft clinking noise it made when her bracelets touched the wood. They were Rantaro’s bracelets, or supposed to be, but since getting lost she had always been the ones who wore them. It felt weird, like touching something that wasn’t ever hers to touch in the first place, but she found that even after getting used to being here (which happened eventually) she couldn’t bring herself to take them off.

Pale greens and blues. Tsubaki didn’t even care for those all that much. She liked purples and browns more (which was pretty cliche considering her hair colour, but in her defense, Rantaro liked  _ green,  _ and getting more basic than that just simply wasn’t possible.) She was fond of them because she reminded her of him. And that he was coming back for her.

Because no matter how often she got overlooked or forgotten, left behind by every member of her family, even the ones who paid more attention to her than others, Rantaro never turned a blind eye to her. He heard her when she was upset. He noticed when she was tired and wanted to go home. He celebrated with her when she was happy.

He was a good older brother. That was why Rantaro was coming back for her. Tsubaki closed her eyes, amidst the monotone drone of her calculus teacher, and drifted to sleep. Her dreams were full of the most comforting shades of green and blue.

\---

Consuelo almost drops the keys as she fumbles to put them into the lock. Epifania offers to help, but then the other woman gets the door open, and shoots her wife a proud look. Rantaro pretends not to notice, focuses instead on moving one foot after the other, getting himself into the apartment and looking around.

It’s a small space. Cozy. It smells like cinnamon and sugar and chocolate, too. All these years he’s pictured Tsubaki staying somewhere cold, and lonely, and being all on her own, but… stepping into this apartment, he’s overwhelmed by the feeling of comfort that fills him.

And then there it is, that familiar worry that, like with Kasumi, Tsubaki isn’t going to want to go back to Japan with him. Not that the arrangement with Kasumi isn’t absolutely perfect; he and Shuichi are gonna stop by and visit her after they’re done here in Barcelona, as a matter of fact. Every time he’s wanted to talk to her recently, or she’s wanted to talk to him, she’s been a single text message away. She sends lovely pictures of the city, and of her dog, and of people at the bakery… things couldn’t be better.

But even so, what if Tsubaki doesn’t even want that? What if the life she found here in Spain is so much better than anything that Rantaro could offer her, and she just wants to get back to it? What if she wants him to leave, in a real, permanent way, and nobody is able to talk her around? He couldn’t blame her, not after everything that happened, not after she…

“You guys are home fast, it usually takes ten extra minutes to get the bread!” A voice fills the apartment, and it’s so much  _ older,  _ but without a single doubt it is Tsubaki’s. Her Spanish is a bit awkward but she speaks it comprehensively, and even without seeing her Rantaro can hear the smile in her voice. “Was there no line today? What is it, Sunday? Usually there are a lot of people who-”

When she emerges from the hallway, one of her hands resting on the wall, Rantaro’s breath catches in his throat. Her maroon hair is longer than it was back then, but not by much, and her black eyes widen when they make eye contact. She has a darker complexion but he still sees the flush that goes across her face, and for a moment he can’t tell what emotion it’s present for, whether she’s happy, or angry, or-

Tears fill her eyes. “Oh my god,” Tsubaki breathes. “I knew you were coming.”

The tension in Rantaro’s chest dissolves, all at once, and when Tsubaki throws herself into his arms, he catches her, and holds on tight.

\---

There was no way that Tsubaki was going to stay in Barcelona.

She loved the city, still. She doubted that, even after everything that had happened, she could ever begin to hate it. But it wasn’t  _ her  _ city. Tokyo was her city. And when Rantaro told her she would get the chance to see Kasumi again, and Mina too, she knew she had to take it.

She promised Epifania and Consuelo, and Melisa and Carmen too, that she would keep in touch. She fully intended to. She wanted to visit Spain as often as she could. But her family was waiting for her. They had been for eight years. And even now, after all this time, Tsubaki knew the truth.

They owed her an apology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11k words is way too many words to write for a character who, out of all of rantaro's sisters, i like the LEAST
> 
> sorry tsubaki. i hope this chapter finally managed to give you a personality
> 
> anyway i've literally been working on this since november 3rd kksldjf y'all deserved an update way earlier than this but y'know what it be like that sometimes
> 
> i lost many braincells working on this update but anyway
> 
> i hope none of you were expecting quick updates from this one. this ain't no the best lies and the chapters are only going to get longer
> 
> me: drops the name of a sister. drops the name of a sister. drops the name of a si
> 
> anyway ksdjf i need to include a couple from the first game to travel with shuichi and rantaro so hmu with suggests :cool sunglasses: in the meantime, happy christmas eve!!! it's two in the morning :^)
> 
> love y'all <3 sorry for taking so long to update


	4. Aki Hagiwara Amami

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more chapter-specific content warnings uhh
> 
> character death  
illness  
poverty
> 
> this chapter gets kinda politics heavy because that's the nature of my existence afsjdhh new york city man!!! people be perishing
> 
> also i've written about jack (one of the original characters in this chapter) before, in the first piece i wrote for amami week, "gloves" so if you want some background on one of the things that happens in this chapter, you can go ahead and read that. otherwise, enjoy

“Aki,” Kei’s voice was hushed, but Aki could still hear it. Their hotel room was dark, save for the sliver of yellow light that crept into the room through the drawn curtains and left a long streak across the carpet. “What time is it?” There wasn’t any specific need to be so quiet; they were the only ones in here, because of course they were, they always shared one room during trips like this, and anyway the walls at this hotel were thick. Nobody was going to hear them, even if Kei spoke loudly. Still, Aki understood. (Being a twin, it wasn’t difficult to understand things about her sister.) It was the secrecy of what they were planning that made Kei want to keep her voice down. Speaking so loudly made it feel like they were going to get caught.

  


And Kei was never the type to be loud, anyway. Aki grabbed at the alarm clock next to her bed. Usually she and Kei would just share one, even if they had two available, but they weren’t planning on sleeping tonight, so there wasn’t much of a reason to curl up together. Besides, Kei radiated heat like a microwave oven and Aki knew that if she crawled in next to her sister, she’d be out within minutes, and on their last night in New York, she didn’t want to risk it. “It’s just past ten, I think we can go now.” Aki replied, squinting into the red light. “Mama is always out at nine, y’know?”

  


“What about Miss Hamada? She’s always up later than everyone else, she might still be in the lobby.” Kei still sounded nervous, despite the fact that they had done this before, in almost every city they went to. It was probably a bad thing, that their first thought upon going somewhere new was that they should sneak out, but their actions had never had consequences before. Besides, Aki thought, swinging socked feet off the side of the bed, she liked sneaking out with her sister. Before their mother got remarried, it was only ever her and Kei. And she loved her new siblings, all of them, but she cherished the alone-time she got with her twin, which was often limited to these late-night outings.

  


Usually they would’ve done it before the last night, but New York City was bigger than say, Melrose, which was the last place they visited. (Aki didn’t like Melrose very much, though, or Massachusetts as a whole. English-speaking places always left her feeling odd. At least in New York there were always all kinds of languages being spoken on every corner. As alien as she felt speaking and understanding Japanese and Japanese alone, at least she knew that there were people around who were in a similar position.) The prospect of being out by themselves in such a big city was really intimidating.

  


But! But, but, but. Aki and Kei were eleven, had been since September of last year, which meant that they were getting old enough to be by themselves! They were the oldest of their sisters, and Aki was the older twin, which meant she was  _ the  _ oldest. (Rantaro not included, as he was not a sister, but a brother.) Aki figured that since they were tweens, they were at they age where it was okay if they were responsible for themselves for a little while. Every time they snuck off before, it went okay, anyway.

  


The only place they didn’t sneak off in was Puerto Princesa, but… that was because Kikuko got lost. They were gonna, even though they were only ten, but… nobody was really feeling up to doing much of anything after their littlest sister disappeared. Especially not after seeing Rantaro when he came back, crying silently because he screamed so hard all night that his voice was gone.

  


(Aki felt a bit bad about going out at night for that reason, because after Kikuko Rantaro started getting stressed out way more easily whenever it seemed like someone was gonna disappear, but it had been a year since she went missing, and Aki knew that she and Kei could take care of themselves. They weren’t gonna go missing.)

  


“It’s okay.” Aki reached to her right and turned on the lamp. Dim orange light filled the room and she watched Kei blink it out of her eyes, scrunching up a freckled nose (the exact same one as Aki had) as she tried to adjust to it. She smiled to herself and took a knee to lace her sneakers. “Miss Hamada was tired today, remember? I think she’s sleeping by now. And Mister Amami wouldn’t stay up later than her because he thinks it’s weird.” She double knotted her right shoelace but stand up before double knotting her left, putting her hands on her hips. “Should I put on long pants? Shorts might be kinda cold.”

  


“It’s spring,” pouted Kei, sliding her feet into her boots. They were old, and the Amamis could definitely afford better for her, but Kei didn’t wanna replace them, and Aki couldn’t really blame her. It was weird adjusting to being so rich at first. Not that they were poor earlier, but they didn’t have the endlessly multiplying wealth that the Amamis do. It was still hard to get used to it. “You’ll probably be fine.” She grabbed her coat from where she laid it down on top of the comforter, pulling it on and then pulling up her hood. Aki watched her for a minute, considering, and then shrugged. She was right. And besides, she already had her shoes on.

  


After putting on her own coat and grabbing her backpack (which didn’t have much in it, just a water bottle, a couple really heavy books in case anyone tried to attack them, a couple extra sweaters, and a few pairs of socks) Aki grabbed her baseball cap and yanked it down over her head. “Ready to go?” She asked brightly, and Kei nodded, so she turned off the lamp and they exited the room, hand in hand.

  


It had been pretty warm earlier that day, which was probably why Kei told her it would be fine if she went out in shorts. Even now, when it was getting closer to eleven, Aki could feel the lingering warmth of late-May in place of any chilling breezes that would’ve been present even just a little bit earlier that year. It was almost sticky, in a sense, how very warm everything was. But Aki liked springtime. It wasn’t her  _ favourite  _ season-- in her mind, nothing could beat the joy of school being out for a couple months, and she liked the unending sunshine, the smell of pollen on the breeze-- but she sure liked spring a whole lot more than she liked autumn or winter.

  


She really couldn’t stand the cold. She liked wearing shorts, and thin t-shirts. And her name being Aki turned her off from autumn in the first place; how cliche would that be, liking a season just because she was named after it? Forget that she and Kei were born on the equinox. She just didn’t like it at all. Everyone always assumed that she did. But autumn was when everything died. The brilliant greens of the leaves turned into oranges and yellows and then mushy browns underneath her feat, and all the colours faded back into grey, and all the animals went to sleep. It represented the end of her favourite time of year. Not her thing.

  


“Do you wanna go to Central Park?” Kei asked, quietly. She didn’t take initiative a lot when they were with all their sisters, that was more Aki’s thing. But when they were alone like this, it didn’t matter that Aki was the older twin. They were totally equal. Kei was always a bit soft-spoken, though. Timid, Aki supposed. She grinned at the suggestion. They were there earlier, but they didn’t spend nearly as much time there as Aki had wanted. She liked playing chess, and there were some old people there sitting over chess boards, but their parents had urged them along.

  


“Yeah, yeah! Do you remember the way?” Aki glanced up at one of the street signs, frowning at the incomprehensible string of letters. She really wanted to learn English, but it was hard enough for her reading Japanese, with all the characters jumping around and scrambling back and forth. (Not to mention that differentiating between  _ no  _ and  _ me  _ and between  _ a  _ and  _ o _ nearly impossible at times.) Maybe she could just learn how to speak it, but reading it felt pretty essential too. There were English signs all over the place in Tokyo. It sucked just seeing a blur of characters that she couldn’t understand.

  


“I think so-- oh, let’s wait for this red light.” Kei reached out to press the button to signal the light that they were waiting, and then rocked back and forth on her heels. Aki smiled at her. Ever since she got her haircut, it became a lot harder for people to confuse them for each other. Kei’s hair was still long, and it curled underneath her ears, but Aki’s was short, and shaved in the back, just like Rantaro’s. She liked it that way. It didn’t take so long to dry, and taking care of it in the morning was super easy.

  


The light turned green, and Aki followed Kei across the street. They walked in a companionable silence for a while, listening to the sound of cars honking and people shouting, and as they turned a corner that Kei said she thought they turned earlier, there was a quiet  _ oomph  _ and then a thud and a crack, and Aki flipped around to see that Kei had tripped.

  


“Oh! Oh, Kei, are you okay?” Aki asked, dropping down to her knees to get at Kei’s eye level. “What was that crack? That sounded really--”

  


“Aki,” Kei sniffled, pushing herself up with one hand and cradling her other arm against her chest. “My  _ arm,”  _ it came out in a whimper. Aki looked down at the offending limb, reaching out to touch it, but the second her fingers connected with it, Kei jerked away, huffing in pain. “Ah, ah,” tears sprung to her arms. “Ow, ow, Aki, do you think it’s broken?”

  


“I-I dunno,” Aki was having a hard time seeing it because it was so dark. She fumbled for her backpack. “Maybe I can, I can wrap it? Like a cast, uhhh--”

  


“It really hurts, Aki,” Kei’s lip wobbled, like she was gonna cry. “I wanna go back, to the hotel.”

  


“Okay, okay, I’ll help you up,” Aki pushed herself to her feet. She didn’t want Kei to cry. “Here, take my hand-- with your other arm, the one that’s not-- yeah, okay,” Kei struggled to her feet, but when she got up straight, Aki found that she was supporting most of her sister’s weight. It seemed like she was favouring one of her legs. “Can you walk on your own?” Aki knew that she couldn’t carry her. They’d tried carrying each other once, and Kei was alright at it, but Aki wasn’t very strong. If it came down to that, she’d just have to sit down and wait for help to come, and she couldn’t do that.

  


“M-Maybe, I--” Kei pushed herself off Aki’s shoulder and tried to walk a few steps, but ended up stumbling, and Aki rushed forward to catch her. “Ow! Ow, other arm--” she bit out, and Aki shifted her grip so that she was supporting Kei on her other side.

  


It wasn’t gonna work to help her walk either, because Aki wasn’t… she didn’t think that she could make it that far half-carrying her sister. But she didn’t know what else to do. She had to get Kei back to the hotel. Maybe there was someone around who could help? Sometimes Aki heard people talking on the street in Japanese, and there were Japanese restaurants around-- maybe she could find one and ask the people inside for help, or to use their phone and call her mom, or Miss Hamada, who was probably awake.

  


“What are you thinking?” Asked Kei softly. Aki didn’t respond right away, instead helping guide Kei to sit against the wall and shrugging off her backpack to put it by her side. “Aki?”

  


“I’m gonna go,” she unzipped the backpack and grabbed one of the sweaters, pulling it on over her head. “And find someone to help. Stay here, I’ll come back.”

  


“Are you sure?” Kei frowned, biting her lip. “What if-- what if you get hurt?”

  


“Are you silly?” Aki grinned, despite not feeling very up to it. “All those fighting shows I watch. I know tons of moves.” She demonstrated a couple of punches, though it was mostly for Kei’s benefit. “I’ll come right back, as soon as I find someone to help. Okay?”

  


“...okay.” Kei agreed. She still sounded hesitant, but Aki was the older twin. She knew what she was doing. “Be careful.”   
  


“I will.” Aki straightened up, flashing her sister a thumbs up. “I’ll be back right away.”

  


With that, she turned around and ran off, not wanting to waste any time finding someone to get her sister back safe.

  


\---

  


Shuichi is not a big city person.

  


With that said, he has to have a certain appreciation for New York City, because everyone here is  _ fucking insane. _

  


“Th-They really just walk out into traffic, huh?” Their plane landed yesterday, and Shuichi’s had plenty of time to get rested up for the day of searching they have planned. But he’s just watched the fifth person today walk right out into the middle of the road to hail a cab, and he’s getting second hand anxiety from the blatant disregard for traffic safety laws. Lots of yelling, too, and just general din. People sticking their arms out the windows of their cars to switch lanes. Shuichi’s seen at least seven people flip someone else the bird this morning, and it’s only ten.

  


“Business as usual,” Rantaro replies with a grin, resting his forearm on Shuichi’s shoulder. In return, Shuichi back up at him, trying not to look too stressed out. It’s just the culture. Sure, Americans are a lot more rude than  _ anybody  _ in Japan, but that’s a fact of life. He could’ve figured out as much watching one of his father’s movies. “It’s a Friday, things are gonna be a little more crazy. Did you want to stop for breakfast somewhere?”   
  


“Ah, I’m not all that hungry,” Shuichi admits. Rantaro gives him a skeptical look, but Shuichi just smiles. He doesn’t usually eat breakfast, which is something that seems to drive Rantaro crazy (“You need to eat three meals a day, Shuichi, no wonder you’re so skinny,”) but he genuinely just doesn’t have very much of an appetite in the mornings. Back in high school, unless Kaito dragged him out of bed, he usually wouldn’t even get up until he absolutely had to for class. “But if you wanted breakfast, I wouldn’t mind stopping…”

  


“I’m asking for you, you twit,” Rantaro rolls his eyes, and Shuichi cracks a smile at the exasperation on his face. It’s sweet that Rantaro is willing to waste time when they could be searching on something like this. He turns around fully and links their hands together, tugging on his arm. They might as well just start searching now. It’s relatively early in the day, but the streets are as crowded as they were the other times Shuichi has been here, so it’s not going to be easy to find Aki in all of this, even though she has blue hair.

  


They’re not starting in Central Park this time, which is a first. Rantaro didn’t see much of a point in going all the way there since they’ve essentially combed that area up and down. From what Shuichi remembers of what Rantaro told him about the night Aki went missing, Central Park was where she and her twin (Kei, Shuichi believes, who was lost three years later in Australia) were heading towards. But it’s unlikely that she’d go back there all that often. To Shuichi it feels like the kind of place that she’d visit when she’s feeling nostalgic. Thinking about the family that she had before. Not somewhere she’s likely to remain.

  


Still, the way that Rantaro’s described it, she can’t have gone too far from there, because Aki and Kei were only a couple blocks off from the park when she disappeared. She was only going off to get help. It doesn’t make sense that she would’ve completely disappeared from that area… unless something terrible happened to her.

  


Shuichi shakes his head. No point entertaining those thoughts. He needs to think productively. Aki was, according to Rantaro, extremely adept in… some kind of martial arts. She probably could’ve defended herself, at least to an extent. He glances over at his boyfriend. Rantaro’s expression is pretty neutral, all things considered. The default face he makes whenever they’re searching. But there’s a tiny crease in his forehead that makes Shuichi curious. “What are you thinking about?” He asks, squeezing his hand.

  


“Hm? Oh, nothing much, just someone I met the first time I came here alone.” Rantaro gives a fleeting smile before the thoughtful look returns, more open this time. “A kid named Jack, I think. He was sweet. Sad, though. I think about him whenever I come back here.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then he adds, “It made me think about how much money I have, and how much other people don’t.”

  


“Are you feeling bad about it?” Shuichi asks. He’s not dense enough to miss the implications of what Rantaro’s saying, but he still wants to ask him to specify in case he’s picking up on it incorrectly. Rantaro averts his gaze, but he nods, and Shuichi squeezes his hand again. “Your father’s wealth is constantly multiplying itself. When we find all of your sisters, we’ll have time to settle down and have conversations about what we do with whatever parts of it go to you. Does that sound alright?”

  


Rantaro meets his eyes now, a small smile appearing on his face. “Thank you.”

  


“It’s what I’m here for,” Shuichi replies, popping onto his tiptoes to press a kiss to Rantaro’s forehead.

  


\---

  


Kei was sitting there for what felt like hours. Aki said she’d get back quickly, and Kei didn’t doubt it, but it seemed like it was taking so  _ long.  _ She didn’t know if she should be trusting her perception of the passing time, or not, because she tended to get stuck in her head, and what felt like an hour could’ve very well been about ten minutes. Besides, Aki was going to come back. She always did, when it came to things like this. They were twins, but Aki was older, and Aki always took care of her.

  


It was difficult not to start crying with how much her arm hurt, and even though it was spring, the longer she sat there, the colder she felt. Her butt was numb too, and her legs were cramped from sitting like that for so long. She half wanted to cry, but it felt overdramatic; unreasonable. And she didn’t want to be crying when Aki came to get her. That would be stupid and embarrassing, even if Aki wouldn’t judge her for it.

  


She didn’t fall asleep, but she drifted, tucking her head in between her knees and screwing her eyes shut. She was sleepy. It was a kind of tiredness that was difficult to explain, like her entire body was being weighed down. The reason she asked Aki what time it was back in the hotel room was because she was starting to fall asleep, and she didn’t want to lose this tradition of sneaking out.

  


Of course, considering that she was sitting there with a broken arm, and Aki was taking forever to get back, this tradition probably wouldn’t… be a tradition, anymore. Because their parents were gonna know from then on, they were gonna see her getting back all bruised and Aki tired from running around the city and trying to take care of her, and-- and then the corners of Kei’s eyes were pricking, and she couldn’t stop herself from crying a little bit. But just a little bit, just the very slightest amount, because anything else would be ridiculous an unneeded. An exaggeration and not helpful at all.

  


How much more time passed until she heard footsteps approaching her, she didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. Kei’s head shot up from between her legs, and she dimly registered that her surroundings were brighter than they were before, but she ignored it because she was probably imagining things. She was so certain that whoever it was was Aki, coming over with help,  _ finally,  _ and--

  


“Rantaro?” Her voice was scratchy, which was weird because she hadn’t been using it. She cleared her throat, harshly, and watched her brother’s head snap towards her, the way his expression relaxed and he ran over to her side, dropping down to his knees. “What’re you… what’re you doing here? Did Aki…”

  


“Did Aki what?” Rantaro asked distractedly. “What happened to your arm?” He sounded scared, panicked, even, but Kei was too tired to pay any real attention to it.

  


“Fell.” She mumbled. “What’s going on?”   
  
“Where were you?” Rantaro shot back, meeting her gaze. He looked too worried to be truly stern (and it would have been strange, Kei thought, if he was stern, because he was only eleven months older than her) but he still sounded freaked out, like something really bad was going on. Dimly, Kei registered that she and Aki  _ had  _ snuck out, but… but she didn’t really wanna talk about that.

  


“Here. Been here. Snuck out.” She explained shortly. “Where’s Aki? Did she go get you?”

  


“Go get me?” Rantaro’s brow furrowed. “No, she didn’t. We woke up and your room was empty. We thought-- I thought--” he broke off, shaking his head. “Nevermind, did Aki leave to come get us?”

  


“No, she went to get help, but she’s been gone for longer than she said she’d be, so I thought maybe she’d gone back to the hotel.” Kei paused. “She, she didn’t?”

  


“No, Kei, we haven’t-- how long has she been gone? When did you sneak out? Christ, you’re cold,” he muttered, touching the side of her face with a hand. “I’m taking you back, Dad and everyone else are at the hotel, and then I’m gonna go out and look for Aki, okay? Where was she going?” He was rambling, and Kei wasn’t sure which ones of his questions she should really answer, because he kept switching topics before she could speak. “Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you?”

  


“I-I can’t walk, that’s why Aki left,” Kei said, and as Rantaro tucked an arm around the middle of her back, hooking his other under her legs, she mumbled, “She went to get help. Find someone who could carry me back to the hotel. Wait, Rantaro!” She stopped, squeezing his shoulder with a hand as he straightened up. “We can’t just go, she’s probably gonna come back here and see I’m gone! She’ll freak out!”

  


As he slung Aki’s backpack over his shoulder, Rantaro said quietly, “I’ll come back here and look around. You need to go to a hospital. Dad’ll take you. And your mom.” Aki had always said that she found it weird how formal Rantaro was with all their mothers, and how weird it was that his own real mom was never there. Kei couldn’t help thinking about it then, looking at his profile, noticing the grit of his jaw as he spoke.

  


“Are you mad at me?” Kei asked. “I didn’t mean to get hurt, a-and I didn’t want her to go off by herself, but she said that she’d be okay because she watches all those shows, and she’d be back soon, and then she just went, and I thought it’d be okay since she’s older, but--”

  


“Kei, calm down, you’re gonna start hyperventilating,” Rantaro interrupted her. He managed a smile. “I’m not mad. I’m glad you’re okay.” He promised, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to find her.”

  


And Kei, shamefully, thought,  _ but you couldn’t find Kikuko,  _ and then immediately vanished the thought. How  _ awful.  _ She could still remember how hard Rantaro was crying when he came back the next morning. If there was anybody torn apart by what happened to Kikuko it was him. He wouldn’t let the same thing happen again. (Even though it wasn’t even close to his fault, this time; this time it was Kei’s.)

  


She kept her mouth shut and closed her eyes too, resting her head on his shoulder, as he began to walk back to the hotel.

  


\---

  


Shuichi’s phone vibrates while he’s watching Rantaro buy a t-shirt in one of the stores they were passing. He’s kind of compulsive about these things. They were just passing by and all of a sudden Rantaro stopped and said, “Kokichi would like that shirt,” so they had to go in and get it. Shuichi would be lying if he said he wasn’t endeared.

  


He takes out his cell phone, curious as to who it is that’s texting him. The message is from Kaito.

  


_ [Hey bro you and Makimaki are keeping an eye on this killer right] _

  


The text is accompanied by a hyperlink. Shuichi clicks on it, and it opens up to an article done by a news source down in Houston, Texas, where Maki and Kaito are living. The article by the New York Times, and it is pretty much what Shuichi is expecting, just details of some small-scale political assassinations that have been going on around America. Halfway through, though, the journalist writes something that catches Shuichi off guard.

  


_ “Due to a rise in killings with a similar MO in Europe, the police are beginning to suspect that this killer does work internationally, or that perhaps there are even several of them going around and committing these crimes. It’s too large of a coincidence; some kind of expertly trained assassin who marks their victims with white chrysanthemums? The killings in Europe and in America have to be linked somehow. The most recent of the killings was…” _

  


“You’re awfully immersed in your phone,” Rantaro is smiling when he stops in front of Shuichi, a bag in hand. “I wasn’t gone for very long, was I?” It’s a far question; Rantaro tends to lose track of time pretty easily. But he hasn’t been gone for very long, so Shuichi shakes his head.

  


“No, sorry.” He slides his phone into his pocket. “Kaito sent me an article, is all. I was reading it.”   
  


“Oh yeah? What about? Some cool space trivia?” Rantaro asks, sliding an arm around Shuichi’s shoulders as they walk together out of the store. Shuichi hums out a no.

  


“Ah, that would be cool, and perhaps more appreciated. Remember the killer that I told you about? The one who marks bodies with white chrysanthemums?”   
  
“Chrysanthemum?” Rantaro interrupts sharply. “I thought you said hyacinth.” He stops walking.

  


“Huh?” Shuichi turns his head. “Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you I was mistaken. No, it’s specifically white chrysanthemum-- ironic, isn’t it? It’s a funeral flower, I wonder if the killer knows anything about Japanese culture. It seems an oddly respectful gesture though, considering that they’re political assassinations. At any rate, it hardly seems much like a serial killer. They have overseas killings, the article said. It must be on a much larger scale than either of us thought-- are you alright?” Shuichi frowns, noticing a furrow between Rantaro’s brows. “I’m sorry, it must be unsettling to hear about-- I sometimes forget how sensitive people can be to case details, working with my uncle-- we can talk about something--”

  


“Nah, it’s not that.” Rantaro clears his throat, forcing a chuckle. “Just, thinking about Kikuko*.”

  


“Ah!” Shuichi smiles sheepishly, feeling a little embarrassed that he didn’t make the connection before. Of course, the mention of chrysanthemum would be a bit sensitive. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

  


“No, it’s fine.” Rantaro shakes his head. “It’s just a flower, even if… well, y’know, it’s kind of stupid to say it, but she liked white ones the best.”

  


“Kikuko was six when she got lost, right?” Shuichi asks, tilting his head to the side, and Rantaro nods. “She probably didn’t understand the connotations of white chrysanthemum yet.” And something very, very small, and very very quiet, gently and carefully takes root in the back of Shuichi’s mind, but he immediately dismisses it. It doesn’t make any sense, and anyway, it’s a ridiculous connection to make considering the very small similarity. He shouldn’t dignify that curiosity with any more thought.

  


“She definitely didn’t,” chuckles Rantaro. “Or else, I imagine she would’ve liked something different.” He clears his throat. “C’mon, we’re here to find Aki. I doubt Kikuko is gonna be hiding out around here.” He reaches out for Shuichi’s hand, and Shuichi takes it, pretending he doesn’t feel the extra-tight way his boyfriend holds onto him as they start walking again.

  


\---

  


Aki bolted into an alleyway and doubled over, putting her hands on her knees and breathing hard. She lost them, she supposed, but still, she felt as though the second she turned around, that mugger would be standing right behind her.

  


She had just managed to defend herself from getting robbed back there. Not that she, well, had anything to be stolen, but she reacted entirely on instinct. Besides, that guy was big and scary and possibly armed. Aki wasn’t gonna sit around and talk about how she didn’t have anything valuable. She went straight in with a knee to the groin and took off in the other direction. It wasn’t as though she was the fastest ever, but she had a headstart, and it was probably extremely hard to run after being hit where the sun don’t shine, so to speak, so Aki was fine.

  


Be that as it may, she wasn’t sure where she was, anymore. Having caught her breath, she straightened up again and turned around, peering back in the direction that she ran from. She crept to the edge of the alleyway, looking wildly around until she found a street sign. There wasn’t much use in looking at it though, because again, she couldn’t read or even speak English. And even if she could, the letters were all jumbled, and blurry. Looking at the sign made her head hurt. She glared at it for a moment until the headache worsened and then huffed, turning back around.

  


There’d be no good in trying to get back to where she was before! She had no idea where to even start. Her instincts were totally silent and her mind was pulling a blank and she didn’t even have a cell phone. Besides, trying to go back that way meant possibly encountering the thief again, and she couldn’t risk that, not when he was probably pissed off at her for kneeing him  _ there.  _ So what? Stay put and wait to be found?   
  
It seemed a decent enough option, except that Aki was in New York City, a huge city, and she was a kid, and she was by herself, and she didn’t speak English. She knew how to say “hello” and “thank you” because her parents told her, but not well by any means, and none of that would be any help to her. Staying there was dangerous. Some dangerous person could come find her. She could be murdered! And Aki really really didn’t want to be murdered. Her chest seized up. Kei was still all by herself, sitting against the wall and cradling her arm to her chest. She was probably cold, and scared, and wondering where Aki was.

  


And Aki couldn’t have given her an answer, even if she could have reached out to her. Forcing her hands over her mouth, Aki sucked in a couple breaths, trying desperately not to panic. She didn’t know what to  _ do.  _ Or where to go, or what even to say if she went somewhere. And it was getting colder, she could feel it, despite the spring night and despite the sweater she put on, and she was all by  _ herself  _ and suddenly she was wondering if her family would keep looking until they found her, or if they’d leave her behind, like they did Kikuko. They wouldn’t, right? They’d stay? They wouldn’t let it happen again, they couldn’t! But-- but Aki didn’t know that, what if they left her behind? What if they decided that her getting lost was her fault for sneaking off at night? And Kei--

  


A voice spoke behind her, and Aki jolted, flipping around and grabbing whoever spoke into a headlock. It wasn’t difficult, either, because he was about her height, and-- and actually, he didn’t seem to be very old at all, in fact, he was… probably her age, looked about eleven. But what was another eleven year old doing outside this late.

  


Aki let him go, and he coughed, saying something that she didn’t understand. She recognised the harsh consonants and messy vowel sounds as English, but she didn’t know what else he was saying. Sounding like he was asking a question, though. She tilted her head to the side.

  


He was a little bit taller than her, but just a couple inches. His hair was brown, and very messy, in the way that someone who tried to get it to sit down but failed had their hair messy, and his skin was dark but his eyes were a startling green, like an evergreen, only not true evergreen; a cooler tone. Reminded her vaguely of western interpretations of Christmas. He spoke again, frowning now and rubbing his neck, and Aki sighed.

  


“I’m sorry,” she said in English, and then in Japanese she added, “I don’t speak English.”

  


“Huh?” Said the boy, which to Aki was perfectly comprehensible. He spoke again, and Aki huffed. She shook her head furiously at everything he was saying, and then his brow furrowed, like he wasn’t asking her yes or no questions. She tried to refrain from pouting at him too hard, because she figured he’d catch on in a moment.

  


After what felt like far too long considering the situation, his eyes widened, and it seemed to dawn on him what she was trying to communicate.

  


“Oh!” He floundered for a moment. “Uh, uh,” he looked from left to right, and then pointed at himself, sharply. “Jack.” He said, and then repeated the word.   
  
Jack? What was he trying to say? Was that his name? Aki thought it was a bit of a weird name-- but then, all English names were weird. She recognised it from  _ Titanic, _ though. “Jack?” She repeated regardless, and he nodded, a bit of relief spreading over his features. So  _ that  _ much he could communicate. Aki regarded this boy, Jack, for a moment, and then decided that she could trust him. He was young, after all, just like her, and he’d told her his name despite the fact that she tried to choke him out immediately upon meeting him. So she pointed at herself in return. “Aki,” she enunciated.

  


“Aki,” he murmured, and then pointed at her chest, raising his eyebrows. He said something in English, and Aki didn’t understand it, but she assumed that what he was saying was,  _ that’s your name? _

  


So she nodded. “Aki,” she agreed, and then for emphasis, pointed back at him. “Jack.”

  


\---

  


Rantaro holds the door for him as they reenter their hotel room. Another long day of searching, but Aki hasn’t been anywhere. They haven’t said anything since entering the building, but Shuichi can tell that Rantaro is discouraged. The same way he always gets when they retire after an unsuccessful day of looking.

  


“Are you planning on taking a shower?” Shuichi asks gently, shedding his coat and placing it, folded, on the desk next to the bed. Rantaro glances at him but shakes his head.

  


“Probably just go right to sleep.” He replies, sounding tired. He sounds tired in more of a mental way, Shuichi thinks; Rantaro sounds tired a lot more often than he really looks like it, but it’s not so hard for Shuichi to spot the difference, after being together for six years. As he unlaces his shoes, he watches Rantaro get off his own, and then his jacket, and his shirt, before sitting down on the side of the bed.

  


Rather than crawl under the covers at his side, though, Shuichi walks over, in front of where Rantaro’s seated, and slides down to kneel in front of him, reaching up to take his hands and rest his chin on his boyfriend’s knees. (He isn’t planning to initiate anything; they’ve done those kinds of things before but neither of them care for that kind of intimacy much, and they need to get up early tomorrow.) Rantaro meets his gaze, a small smile spreading across his features. “Hey,” Shuichi murmurs.

  


“Hey,” Rantaro responds in kind, brushing one of his thumbs over Shuichi’s knuckles. The detective hums, rubbing his forehead against Rantaro’s knee. He doesn’t like it when Rantaro does that, smile when he’s clearly not feeling it, but it’s habitual, Shuichi thinks, at this point, to wear the expression. He brings Rantaro’s hands over to his mouth and presses chaste kisses to the back of both of them.

  


“We’re going to find her,” he says quietly, against Rantaro’s wrist. “But you don’t have to act happy when you’re not.”

  


After a moment, someone heavily, Rantaro says, “I know,” and his smile diminishes into something more real. A neutral expression to anyone else, but Shuichi can see the shadow behind his eyes. “Not around you, at least,” he murmurs, and Shuichi stands slowly but climbs into Rantaro’s lap, tucking his arms around his shoulders and pulling him into a kiss. They don’t need to talk about that stuff, it’s been a long day. They’d both better brush their teeth in a minute, but a little bit of kissing beforehand never hurt anybody.

  


\---

  


Jack lived in a shabby, shabby apartment in a part of town he managed to communicate to Aki was called “Lower Manhattan” with great struggling on both sides of the equation. His mother was young, really young, and she looked like Jack, actually, but her hair was darker brown, and her eyes were brown too. She introduced herself as Alicia, and when she saw how teary-eyed Aki was, immediately pulled her into a tight hug. Aki felt a bit bad coming home with a stranger, much less accepting his hospitality, but Jack had been insistent, despite them not speaking the same language, and she was already on the fence anyway.

  


They were sweet. Their house smelled like burnt sage, something Aki recognised because one of her step-moms, Miss Akamine, was really into that stuff, and Alicia sang a lot as she walked around the house. Her voice was surprisingly low for a woman’s, deep and rich and powerful, and Aki liked listening to her sing, even though she couldn’t understand the words the woman was singing.

  


There were a lot of words that they said to her, some more frequently than others, but Aki couldn’t understand any of them, and that made communicating nearly impossible. She picked up words quickly though, words like “food” (which Alicia said every time the smell of food filled the small space) and “police”, which Aki assumed they were saying to her because they wanted to take her to the police. She knew how to nod and shake her head and stuff, so there would’ve been no problem conveying to them that they could take her to the police, but…

  


But, the fourth morning Aki was staying with them, she woke up a bit before Jack did, and walked out of his bedroom and into the dining room, where Alicia was sitting at the table, looking over a sheet of paper. She had reading glasses on, and there were deep lines carved into her face; her brows furrowed. There were a lot of papers around her, but the way she was looking through them, carefully and slowly, well… her body language was the body language of someone who had a secret.

  


It was springtime, and Jack had managed to tell her by using pictures in magazines that the school year was drawing to a close soon. He expressed that he was planning on going to work, though he didn’t tell her why. It felt laughable to Aki, the idea of someone as young as Jack having a job. Working was for the adults, not kids! Her mother would be appalled by the very notion of it, her working.

  


And then seeing Alicia sitting at the table… something clicked into place. Aki realised that those papers, though she didn’t know  _ exactly  _ what they represented, must have had something to do with the fact that Alicia and Jack’s apartment, it only had one bedroom. Alicia slept on the couch. They didn’t eat very many things, just a couple of the same meals, and Aki noticed without wanting to comment on it that Jack didn’t have very many different pieces of clothing.

  


It meant that she should leave soon, that’s what it meant, so that she wouldn’t be imposing on them any longer. But the way that Alicia rushed out the house in the mornings meant as well that she probably didn’t have much time to take Aki to the police. And she looked so tired when she came home afterwards, Aki… didn’t feel like it was right.

  


She crept, quietly, quietly, back into Jack’s room, and later, when he was fully awake and asked her if she wanted to go to the police, she shook her head, fervently, and said one of the English words that she knew. “Wait.” She hesitated. Another one. “Soon.” And then, finally, “Job.”

  


\---

  


The morning comes slowly, Shuichi feels, though it probably only feels that way because he wakes up gradually, watching the sun begin to peek through the curtains bit by bit, even when he’s not entirely awake. By the time he’s come to, the sky outside must be an intense, but light blue. Shuichi doesn’t want to get out of bed though, because the mattress is comfortable, and Rantaro’s arms around him are incredibly warm. Warmth and comfort are the only two things that Shuichi really needs to be lulled to sleep, especially when he just woke up, so he’s pretty sure for a solid few minutes that he’s just going to doze off again.

  


After weighing the pros and cons of doing so, though, Shuichi ends up sitting up. He carefully moves Rantaro’s arm from around his shoulders and crawls out from under the blankets, stretching his arms above his head. He slept in his clothes, which isn’t the best. Especially when it comes to jeans. It hadn’t been a problem at the time because they were both very tired, but now his legs feel a little bit overheated. He heads over to his luggage, selects another outfit, and shuffles into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Rantaro can sleep for a little longer while he’s showering.

  


It’s nice stepping under the hot water, despite how warm he was underneath the blankets. Spooning is great but he always ends up stiff sleeping in one position all night. As he massages shampoo into his scalp, Shuichi rolls his shoulders forward, and then backward, and turns his head to the side too, scrunching up his face at the sound of cracks in his joints but smiling for it too. It feels good doing that, but it always makes him worried that he’s getting too stiff way too young. He’s only twenty-two; it’s a bit unreasonable at this age.

  


After getting dressed, Shuichi flicks off the bathroom light and steps back into the larger hotel room. Rantaro has rolled over onto his other side, so Shuichi thinks he’s awake, but he’s probably doing something similar to what the detective was earlier, trying to squeeze out a couple extra minutes of sleep before he has to get out of bed.

  


Smiling at the sight, Shuichi walks over, climbing onto the mattress and resting a hand on Rantaro’s shoulder. “Hey, time to wake up,” he says quietly, and Rantaro lets out a cross between a huff and a groan, turning his head to face Shuichi but not opening his eyes. “Come on, Rantaro,” Shuichi rolls his eyes, but can’t suppress a quiet laugh. “It’s getting closer to nine, and you’ll want to take a shower.”

  


“Mmmm…” Rantaro cracks open one green eye, looking around blearily. “How does your cowlic stick up even when it’s wet?” He reaches up to run his fingers through Shuichi’s hair. Sighing, Shuichi allows him to do it, because it feels nice and he can’t muster the energy to pull an annoyed expression when Rantaro is drowsy like this. It’s unfortunately  _ really  _ cute, and after six years he’s just about gotten used to his boyfriend to the point where he doesn’t get embarrassed by every little thing, but he doesn’t stop being sweet. “What if you let me sleep for five more minutes?”   
  
“What, so it can be ten more minutes later?” Shuichi chuckles. “Get up, Rantaro,” he tries for a stern expression, but it falls from his face when Rantaro pulls him down into a kiss. He humours him for a couple moments before pulling away, rolling his lips between his teeth. “Your kisses don’t work on me anymore, even if they are fantastic.”

  


“That’s rude,” Rantaro sighs, but he finally shifts so that he’s sitting up, yawning into a hand. “I’m gonna need you to be flustered more easily, Shu.”

  


“Not,” Shuichi pauses. “Going to happen, Amami.”   
  


“Ohoho, pulling out the last names?” Rantaro quirks an eyebrow, and Shuichi smiles bashfully, even though he couldn’t be further from bashful. Rantaro sees right through it, because he laughs, tired but warm and starting to wake up, finally, and Shuichi thinks of deep purple flowers blooming because it’s rich but it has that energy, and his heart warms. “Don’t look so smug,” he reaches out and flicks Shuichi’s nose, but slides out from under the sheets, stretching. “I’ll take a quick shower.”   
  


“Take your time,” Shuichi dismisses, grabbing his phone off the nightstand, where he thankfully remembered to plug it in last night. “I’ll still be here.”

  


Rantaro flashes him a smaller, softer smile, and Shuichi returns it, before he disappears into the bathroom, his clothes slung over his shoulder.

  


\---

  


It must have been the middle of the night when Jack shook her awake. Aki blinked tiredly, looking up at him, and raised her eyebrows, wondering what he wanted. He shot her a smile, looking, all things considered, pretty wide awake, and said, “Mom’s asleep. I wanna show you something,” and after living with him and learning English for two years, Aki understood him perfectly well.

  


“What?” She asked regardless, quirking an eyebrow. Jack shook his head.

  


“Just c’mon, you’ll see it in a second.” With that he disappeared from her direct line of sight, and Aki took a moment to consider her options before swinging her legs off the side of the bed and stepping into her shoes. She didn’t double knot them this time. Instead she just slipped off out the bedroom door, and then subsequently the door to the apartment, after Jack. For a moment she was worried, thinking he was planning on sneaking out of the apartment complex in the middle of the night, just like what got her lost and Kei’s arm broken, but when Jack stepped into the staircase, he began to climb up, not down, and Aki wordlessly followed.

  


They climbed the stairs all the way to the top floor, leaving Aki slightly breathless, but Jack didn’t even slow his pace, other than to glance over his shoulder and check that she was still following him. He shot her a quick smile before walking over to a door and opening it. As it creaked open, a gust of cold, fresh smelling wind blew through, and as Aki followed him out, she realised that it led outside, to another flight of stairs.

  


When Aki finally reached the top of  _ that  _ staircase, she bent over, catching her breath, and shivered. It was a cold night, and the wind was really strong. She had no idea how high they were. Jack’s apartment was on the eighth floor, and there were fifteen in the whole complex. When she felt sufficiently recovered, she looked up, and her breath hitched in her throat.

  


They were on the roof of the apartment complex. The edge was lined with a black railing, though if it was there to prevent people falling off, Aki didn’t think that it would be very effective. The roof overlooked what felt like the entire city of New York. It spread out beneath them in a wide grid of colours; pinks and blues and yellows and greens. Up here, she could hear cars driving, horns honking. People raising their voices and yelling at each other, despite the hour, in languages that she couldn’t understand, and languages that she could. Her heart pounded just a little bit harder as she looked over at Jack. He was gazing at her, with a smile on his face.

  


“I come up here sometimes. Mom thinks I shouldn’t-- I don’t think it’s really allowed. But there’s a weird tranquility about it. About being above everything else.” He curled his hands around the railing, disregarding how cold it probably was. The wind blew his hair back and Aki thought he looked like a character in a movie; mocha coloured skin turned pretty colours by the lights. His dark green eyes looked like they were lit aflame, reflecting the sight beneath them. “Can’t really see the stars, though. Too many lights.”

  


Aki felt compelled to say something. “You can’t see them in Tokyo, either. The city doesn’t sleep, just like it doesn’t here.”

  


Jack shot her a small smile. “I saw them once, for real, outside of books and movies, did I tell you?” When Aki shook her head, he continued speaking, his gaze fixed on her but distracted; elsewhere. “Back before my father died, we went camping, all three of us. Drove south, deep into Appalachia, and found a spot surrounded by forest in the mountains. The sky was so full, I thought it was going to burst.” Aki had had a similar experience, back in Puerto Princesa. Sleeping underneath the stars and wondering if somewhere, Kikuko was looking up at them too. It would have been her first night seeing them. The rush of sadness surprised her, but she pushed it to the side to listen to what Jack was saying. “I want to see them. The stars, I mean. I know all kinds of things about them.”

  


“You’d like to be an astronaut?” Aki asked, thinking of the very vague impression she had of astronauts from movies and picture books, wearing clunky white suits and floating around in space ships. “With, uh, NASA?”

  


“Yeah. Verify that they’re really out there. The stars.” He rested his forearms on the railing and tilted back his head, gazing up at the sky, and Aki thought he looked ethereal. “And if you’d let me, I’d take you with me.” He said, very quietly.

  


Without saying anything else, Aki reached out and curled their fingers together, and Jack seemed to understand, because the smile that curled on his lips, even from his profile, was more stunning than the entirety of New York City.

  


\---

  


“We’re taking the subway today,” Rantaro announces as they exit the hotel. Shuichi quirks an eyebrow at him, lacing their fingers together, and takes a moment to gather his thoughts before he asks the question that’s weighing on him.

  


“Well, alright, but,” he pauses, and then asks, “Won’t that be uncomfortable for you, Rantaro?”

  


“Whad’ya mean?” Rantaro asks distantly, though Shuichi is sure he knows what Rantaro is talking about. Back in high school, before they were even dating, they took a field trip to a big fancy office in Shinjuku, and their whole class was crowded onto an elevator for the tour. It was how Shuichi found out that Rantaro has claustrophobia; a really bad case of it, as a matter of fact. Of course he’s reluctant to bring it up, shove it down Rantaro’s thought, so to speak, but he wants to ask, anyway, to make sure his boyfriend isn’t sacrificing his personal comfort for the sake of efficiency, like he does with airplanes.

  


“Ah, I just thought that, well, isn’t the subway system, uhm, underground?” Shuichi struggles to articulate his question in a way that would imply his concern without outright stating it. He wouldn’t mind being straightforward if Rantaro asks him to be, but the fact that he was evasive in the first place suggests he doesn’t really care for talking much about his fears right now. The last thing Shuichi wants is to embarrass him. Rantaro has a bit of a complex about those things.

  


“It is, yeah. I’ve taken it before. It’s not the best,” chuckles Rantaro. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, thankfully. “But it’s very spacious. Of course, I’d hate to be there in the event of an earthquake.” Shuichi detects a note of shakiness in Rantaro’s tone that wasn’t there a moment ago, and thinks,  _ ah.  _ Paranoia is overpowering, even if there’s no substance behind it.

  


“Let me know if it gets overwhelming.” Shuichi squeezes his hand. “We can rent bikes.”

  


“Kaede would likely be appalled hearing that you so much as suggested it,” Rantaro jokes, and Shuichi meets his smile with one of his own, but still notices the relief in those green eyes. He can’t help perching himself on his tiptoes to give him a quick, chaste kiss on the lips. Just enough to convey what he’s not going to say out loud. Rantaro ducks his head to kiss him again, disregarding the fact that they’re in public and probably blocking the flow of people walking down the sidewalk. It’s a nice kiss, warm, and so Shuichi decides to forgive the PDA.

  


\---

  


She honestly didn’t mean to intrude.

  


It was just that the sound of coughing, loud and rough and painful-sounding, was a bit alarming while she was trying to focus on sketching Kei’s face. Jack was asleep, and had been for a couple of hours, but she had started the drawing while he was awake, and she still hadn’t gotten it right. It should’ve been easy; Kei’s face was just like hers, minus the tiny differences that only someone who knew them could really see, but it wasn’t. Every time she closed her eyes and tried to bring her twin’s face to her mind, it came out painfully blurry. Unreal. The thought that she was forgetting what Kei looked like, and subsequently Rui and Satsuki and Koharu and Rantaro and  _ all  _ of them-- it was terrifying. She just wanted to get this right.

  


But she stopped when she heard the coughing, because without a doubt, it was Alicia doing it. There was nobody else it could be. Aki felt like it would be bad to just barge out into the living room, but she… well, she just had to check, was all. She’d gotten good at creeping around the past couple of years, and… she carefully placed her drawing on her chair, got to her feet, and slipped out of the room, peering down the hallway and into the kitchen. The light was on in there, and so that was where her attention went first. Sure enough, Alicia was standing in front of the stove, bracing herself with a hand on the counter, while coughing into a handkerchief. Her coughs were hoarse, guttural, and Aki winced. It didn’t feel appropriate to just turn and walk away.

  


Before she could formally decide what to do, though, Alicia recovered, it seemed, and turned around. Perhaps she heard the creak of the door behind Aki, or something, because her gaze flew straight to her.

  


“I’m sorry!” Aki apologised, immediately, despite not being prompted. She knew Alicia wouldn’t be mad at her, but she couldn’t help feeling like she had walked in on some deep, dark secret, and was going to make things even harder on Alicia than they had been as of late, and she couldn’t stand the thought. She swallowed hard and continued to speak. “I-I didn’t mean to barge out here, or anything, I was just-- I heard you coughing, and I was worried--”

  


“It’s okay, Aki,” Alicia dismissed quietly, and her voice sounded rough. She didn’t look all that good, to be honest. Her dark skin was pale, and her smile was strained, though genuine. She walked through the kitchen, holding one of her hands behind her back, and rested the other on Aki’s shoulder. “I’m recovering from a cold, is all.” She explained. “Sorry if I worried you.”

  


“Oh, that’s… that’s okay,” Aki swallowed. “If it’s just a cold, then--” she cut off. Of course it was just a cold, why would Alicia lie? She shook her head to clear her thoughts. “I’ll go back to sleep then, uh, good night,” she stammered, and Alicia’s smile became more natural, somehow, gentler, as she returned the sentiment.

  


And as Aki stepped back into her room, she pretended she didn’t see the spots of something dark in the handkerchief that Alicia was holding behind her back.

  


\---

  


Shuichi finds that he prefers the bullet train in Japan to the experience on the underground subway system in New York. It’s not bad, per se, but compared to zooming along at high speeds… Shuichi would definitely choose shinkansen** over this, no hesitation.

  


Of course, with that said, pretty much everywhere has some kind of bullet train. Germany, France, China. He’s been to the latter countries far more than he’s been to China; actually, Shuichi has been to China once, and it was only because they got a very vague lead on someone who was around Rui’s age with green hair (Rui being one of Rantaro’s biological sisters) but they did take the bullet train once, and it was an experience to remember. Obviously the trip didn’t yield any results, though. Rui got lost in London. There wasn’t a high chance of her actually being there. But when they got the lead, Rantaro shrugged, booked a plane, and said,  _ “Should still check.” _

  


He gets it though, Shuichi does, why Rantaro is like that. Going places on a whim if he gets even the slightest indication that his sister is there. He feels like he has to chase every lead, follow ever trail, jump on any and every loose end. Because if he shakes his head and dismisses something as impossible, and doesn’t act on something that’s placed in front of him… well, what if that ends up being a lead that goes directly to one of his sisters? He can’t take that chance. Even if it’s near impossible. If there’s the slightest possibility, he’ll book a flight and be gone within the hour.

  


That kind of impulsiveness is worrisome. But Shuichi knows that if he lost someone, as in lost them and wasn’t left by them, and he was trying to find them… he’d take every chance he could get, too. So he doesn’t have any space to critique, not in this case.

  


“You’ve been quiet since we got on the train,” Rantaro remarks with a smile. “We can actually talk on this one, y’know.”

  


“Ah, sorry,” Shuichi apologises, though he recognises that it’s not really what Rantaro is expecting from him. “I’m just thinking about how much I’d prefer riding a bullet train. It’s certainly a lot faster,” this bit is muttered, under his breath, as the train pulls at what feels a painfully slow speed up to the stop before theirs. He tries not to sigh too openly. “Why don’t they have a bullet train in America? It’s so big, and they  _ like  _ flexing their technology here, don’t they?”

  


“You’re learning,” grins Rantaro. “That’s a good question, though. I don’t know much about the American economy, but I’d say coal and oil.”   
  


“Hm?” Shuichi quirks an eyebrow, confused. “Elaborate?” Shinkansen is powered by electricity, of course, but that electricity is powered by coal and oil, so Shuichi doesn’t understand how the investment would differ, really.

  


“Coal and oil are really profitable if everyone is driving their own car.” Rantaro explains, appearing to note that they’re getting close to their stop and getting to his feet, making his way over to one of the exits. Shuichi follows. “I imagine Americans don’t want to forsake it. Excuse me,” he adds, in English, as they narrowly avoid colliding with someone upon exiting the train. Shuichi nods, rather than echoing the sentiment, to avoid painstaking repetition, and catches Rantaro’s hand in his as mount the stairs that lead aboveground. They could take an elevator too, and it would arguably be faster (and cleaner, Shuichi spots distastefully, wrinkling his nose as he skips a step to avoid stepping on a syringe) but that’s clearly not an option for Rantaro. “Something like a bullet train would transport large amounts of people to a lot of places and very quickly. There wouldn’t be as much of a reliance on cars.” Rantaro continues, oblivious to Shuichi’s chagrin.

  


“I would have thought that that would be the main selling point,” he says, frowning, “considering the, ah, climate, as of current.”

  


“Not for the rich oil executives in this country.” Rantaro shoots him a grin, but this one is more wry than the one he wore before. “They’ve got their claws into a whole lot of politicians here. Almost got killed sticking my neck into their business back before I went to Hope’s Peak, but I think that’s a story for another day.”

  


Shuichi refrains the urge to ask  _ what  _ exactly Rantaro is referring to, and when they reach the top of the steps, follows him down the sidewalk without another word.

  


\---

  


By the time Aki turned fourteen, Alicia’s secret was hardly a secret anymore. Her illness was showing itself everywhere, anywhere, and it was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t long before Jack picked up on it, and when he mentioned it to her, quietly, his face hidden by his hands, it began to feel like a reality.

  


Alicia couldn’t sing around the house anymore; her throat was way too cut up from all of the coughing, and whenever she spoke her voice was incredibly hoarse. Her words sounded painful. Jack made up for the lack of music by singing himself, and Aki wanted to follow his example, but she was hardly a singer. She would’ve felt like an intruder, singing with a voice so weak and flimsy compared to the rich contralto of Alicia, or the sweet tenor of Jack.

  


It felt so sudden, despite perhaps being a long time coming, when Alicia was laid off her job. She couldn’t do the work anymore, she lacked the strength to make the journey every day. They didn’t have a car. She rode the subway. The transit was too taxing, and her job was laborious too. When she delivered the news, she did it with a smile, saying how she had hated the old career anyway, but Aki could see through, by that point, to the fear lurking beneath her eyes. The tenseness in her shoulders. She was worried, Aki knew, about how she was going to take care of them. Suddenly the decision to stick around felt less like a given, more like another strain to put on Alicia’s already weary shoulders, but she couldn’t very well leave. She could tell that Jack was hardly keeping it together, and Alicia was too weak to cook for them anymore. So she did those things herself.

  


The papers that Alicia had been surrounded with that morning that Aki decided to stay began spilling off the dining room table, and showing themselves everywhere. There were so many of them, with different fonts and from different people, and even if trying to read them hadn’t made her vision double and her head swim, Aki didn’t even try. She knew what they said, anyway. What messages Alicia was constantly being bombarded with.

  


It seemed incomprehensible to Aki, at first, that Alicia didn’t check herself in at the hospital. Back in Japan, that would’ve been the very first course of action, for back when Alicia first began to display signs of illness. A bit of a no-brainer, in her opinion. It wasn’t even a matter of her growing up in a wealthy home and thus being a stranger to poverty, this time, because in Japan, anybody could go see the doctor. Go to the hospital. It was a fact of life. The government covered those costs. Even back when she was eleven, she had an understanding of that, albeit a meager one.

  


But when she mentioned it to Jack, he looked at her skeptically and said, as though it should’ve been obvious. “We don’t have health care, Aki.”   
  
She was taken off guard by his incredulity. “Health care?” She echoed, trying to wrap her mind around his wording. “Why should you need health care? It’s your mother’s life, the government should take care of that.”

  


He gave her an appraising look, and for a moment she thought he would snap at her (which he had never done before) but then he just sighed, nodding. “Yeah, that’s probably the way it works in Japan. Just, not in America, y’know?” Aki didn’t. It seemed a very silly thing to be put in place. Worse than silly. Reprehensible. Alicia was only getting worse, day by day. There was no practical reason to demand such a thing as health care in order for a person to go to the hospital. “You’re right, though.” Jack said, much more quietly. “They should.”   
  
He was silent for the duration of the night, and Aki was worried that he was upset with her, for assuming, for asking, for not knowing, for rubbing in his face the privilege that she had grown up with thinking was a given but truly wasn’t-- but the next morning when he woke her up, he was smiling that same smile he always gave her, and she wondered if perhaps the reason for his silence was something else. Something that she had no business inquiring about.

  


(Something that, if Alicia made it through, Aki thought she might inquire about regardless.)

  


\---

  


Somehow, inexplicably, they end up at Central Park. It’s after noon by now, probably getting closer to four o’clock, but it seems as though no matter where they go, they’ll end up here eventually. Maybe there’s more merit to the park being called “Central” than Shuichi original thought.

  


There’s this small park just a stone’s throw away from his uncle’s house back in Japan. It’s tiny, really. There’s a grassy field where kids will go out with a frisbee, and a ragged old play structure, and a bunch of deciduous trees, but other than that, it’s very simple. Shuichi liked it; still does. When he was in middle school, he liked going there and sitting on a bench with a book or a case file, staying there and working until it got too dark for him to see without the assistance of his phone flashlight. Even (or especially) during the colder months, the vast majority of his days used to be spent there, working hard and being exceedingly comfortable with his own company.

  


He’s still that way. Introversion doesn’t just go away, after all. He’s with Rantaro almost all the time nowadays, with how often they travel, but whenever they’re back in Japan he has to take a bit of time to himself to recharge. Rantaro gets it, he thinks. He certainly doesn’t seem to be hurt by it when Shuichi slips out to the library alone and returns hours later with a bag full of Agatha Christie books. More than anything else in the world, Shuichi is certain that he’s in love with Rantaro, but he still needs time by  _ himself.  _ Time to think about things that are difficult while traveling, time to absorb things that have happened. Even just time to spend with his other friends, with his family. Nobody should be with somebody else one hundred percent of the time, no matter how much they love each other.

  


At any rate, the park across the street from his uncle’s house has got nothing on Central Park. Central Park is  _ vast.  _ Larger than even the dorms back at Hope’s Peak Academy, and those were formidable, considering how many students they housed. Though Shuichi has been here a number of times in the past, he still hasn’t explored the whole thing. It’s kind of a thrilling thought, actually, the idea that even though he’s been here so many times, he hasn’t seen all of it yet. There’s more left to discover. Maybe this is how Rantaro feels, docking his boat or exiting a plane in a new country. The trill of adventuring.

  


“I wish I could be good at chess.” Rantaro sighs, and Shuichi glances over at him to follow his train of sight. He’s watching a couple old women play each other, focused very hard on the game in front of them, but smiling too, like they’re having an excellent time. Shuichi finds himself watching them for a moment himself before he responds.

  


“You could be, if you took a moment to think beyond anyone’s strategy but your own.” Shuichi shoots him a crooked grin, poking his cheek with a finger. “You hyperfocus.”

  


“Hahaha, and I suppose you’re a chess champion, going into it and forming your plans based on what moves your opponent makes?” Rantaro quirks a brow, and Shuichi huffs out a laugh, rolling his eyes.

  


“If I recall, I’ve beaten you every time we’ve played.”

  


“I never said you weren’t better than me…” Rantaro trails off for a moment, and Shuichi watches him as his train off thought crashes, the wind blowing his green hair. Since he showered this morning and let it air dry, it looks extremely fluffy. Rantaro uses hotel shampoos because he’s a heathen, but it still smells really nice. Shuichi reaches up to run his fingers through it, smiling when his boyfriend glances over at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, I spaced out.”

  


“It’s alright,” Shuichi says softly. “It gave me a moment to admire how nice you look today.”

  


“You’re a real charmer,” Rantaro teases, but his eyes betray how happy he feels to be receiving the compliment. “I’m just thinking about, y’know, Aki. The day she got lost. Or night, rather.” He averts his gaze. “She was heading here with Kei. I wonder if she ever ended up here.”

  


“Ah, didn’t she go off to get help?” Asks Shuichi, frowning.

  


“She did.” Despite agreeing, Rantaro’s brow is still furrowed. “But I wonder if, in the years after, she ever came back here. Just… thinking about it all.”

  


“I’m sure she has,” Shuichi murmurs. “This seems like a place everyone goes eventually. Living here, I don’t see why she wouldn’t.”

  


“That is,” Rantaro continues in an undertone, as though he didn’t hear Shuichi just now. “If she’s still alive.”

  


Shuichi frowns, but doesn’t speak for a moment. Rantaro is avoiding his gaze now, actively, but he’s clearly bothered. His posture is too tense for him not to be. It’s something that’s perfectly understandable to be worried about; Aki’s been gone for ten years now. But even so… Shuichi reaches up to massage his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Hey. She’s alive, Rantaro. She’s out there.”   
  
“Really?” Rantaro looks at him, and his eyes are pained. Shuichi swallows hard. “How do you know?”

  


“You told me she’s a fighter.” Shuichi replies. “That she’s strong and caring. Just like Mina, and Tsubaki, and Kasumi. She’s going to be alright. Out there. Waiting for you to find her. And we will,” he adds, when Rantaro opens his mouth. “Sooner than you think.”

  


\---

  


Alicia was admitted to the hospital a week before she decided that she was going to die.

  


It wasn’t as though she particularly wanted to; she had a son to take care of, and Aki was like a daughter too, after all of this time, but she didn’t have much of a say in the matter. She could feel it deep inside her, every time she coughed, every time she spoke, every time she caught Jack looking at her with that sad, sad expression on his face. She knew she was a goner. To be honest, the fact that she was even admitted into a hospital in the first place was kind of incredible. But Jack returned home from school one day with a wallet clutched in his hand and a strange look on his face, and he didn’t tell her where he got it from, but it had had enough to get her in.

  


Alicia’s only consolation was that she would be dead before they could wrack up any hospital bills that her children would be stuck with when she died. She knew that they were going to be evicted; she’d been out of a job for a long time before being hospitalised, and as much as Aki and Jack excelled at taking jobs around the city and working, as hard as they could, Alicia didn’t think that they could take anything full-time. They were only fourteen. And she didn’t want them to be forced into that, a life of going from one dead-end job to the next, just trying to get by.

  


She could hardly bring herself to think of what would happen to her, after she died, though. She’d have no say in that. No control. She didn’t even know if she’d be able to watch over them, protect them from dangers that they couldn’t possibly oversee. It wasn’t exactly fair. But it was the way things were. And she was no good to anybody sulking over it.

  


With all that at the front of her mind, putting on a smile for her son was easy. She always felt her stomach squeeze with joy whenever he walked into a room, anyway. Her precious boy. She hoped Jack would live for a very long time, a life full of laughter and joy. Smiling and laughing and talking with cheer came so naturally whenever he was around.

  


It was different with Aki, though. Perhaps simply because Aki took one look at her and knew. She was awfully prudent for a fourteen year old. Three years ago, when she walked into the apartment, looking around in a rather owlish manner, Alicia knew on some level that she was eleven, just like her son, but on the other hand… it was impossible to reconcile that knowledge with the depth she saw in her eyes. Alicia found it difficult to play brave in front of her. And Aki didn’t think anything less of her when she couldn’t.

  


Aki was sitting at her side, one evening, Jack asleep in a chair across the room, when she admitted in a hushed whisper, “I’d like to learn how to sing, Alicia.”

  


It was an odd thing to hear, but not too much. Alicia had never heard Aki singing before, after all; not even in the shower. “Well, the only way to get good at it is by practicing.” Alicia replied. Her voice was so raspy, so weak. She hated to hear it. Couldn’t even remember what it had sounded like before she fell ill. She wished she could, but at the same time, she was grateful that she couldn’t. It would be more painful, she thought, if she could remember how it used to be. “I think you’d be a good singer if you tried it. You have a melodic voice.”

  


“Really?” Aki’s eyes widened a bit, and Alicia smiled. She was still a child, even with the beyond-her-years level of maturity she was always displaying. Receiving compliments left her flabbergasted. “You think so? Because your voice is so good, I--”

  


“This is going to sound really cliche,” Alicia began. “But it’s only because I can feel the music. Right in here, Aki.” She tapped her sternum with one finger, and Aki found the spot on her own chest, thoughtlessly tracing it with her fingernail. “I sing songs that I love, because I want to sing them. It brings me joy.”  _ Brought me joy,  _ her mind corrected, but she didn’t say as much. Aki didn’t need to hear that. “If you’d like to sing, then I think you should try to find that. Find something that makes you happy, and then sing about it.”

  


Aki’s gaze flickered over to Jack, briefly, but Alicia still caught it. She smiled, but tried to act as though she hadn’t noticed. When Aki was looking back at her, however, her expression was sad. “How am I going to find things to be happy about when-- if, if you’re--”

  


“You will move on.” Alicia said gently. “Both of you will.”

  


(It was one of the last conversations Alicia ever had.)

  


\---

  


It’s around 6PM by now, but Shuichi isn’t feeling all that hungry, and neither is Rantaro. They’re deliberating as to whether or not they should get dinner anyway, but eventually Shuichi suggests that they get room service when they return to their hotel, and just grab something from a cafe in the area and keep searching a little bit longer, so Rantaro agrees.

  


Though there are plenty of Starbucks in the area, the fact that they’re trying to find a small business rather than a chain means it takes them a little bit longer to find a cafe than it should. Fortunately, they happen across one perhaps four or five blocks away from Central Park, and then stand outside together wondering what to get.

  


“Why don’t you just go inside and order?” Rantaro suggests. “I’ll give you a twenty, get me an iced tea.”

  


“Are you sure?” Shuichi asks. “There might be something else you want.” He accepts the offer of the twenty, though. He likes to pay for things himself sometimes, but he knows it makes Rantaro feel uncomfortable when he rejects acts of kindness like this, and he doesn’t mind accepting in this case. Before Rantaro responds, though, Shuichi realises that perhaps he wants to stay outside because he’s still thinking about the conversation that they had earlier, about Aki. After Shuichi reassured him, Rantaro didn’t say anything, and they ended up spending a lot more time in Central Park than they meant to. If he needs a moment to process it, Shuichi isn’t going to deny him of it.

  


Still, when Rantaro nods, he listens for the assurance. “You know my tastes well enough, you can pick for me. Go for a chocolate croissant if you can.”

  


“I thought you hated American croissants?” Shuichi smiles. “Not airy enough, you said.” Of course, it’s hard to genuinely American croissants after having eaten the real thing in Paris, but Shuichi isn’t all that picky when it comes to food. Rantaro has a more refined palate. There have been a number of times where his pickiness with food has showed itself in casual conversation.

  


Snorting, Rantaro says, “The fact that it has chocolate makes it decently tolerable, but you’re right, they’re not airy enough.” Of course he’s right, Shuichi thinks with a roll of his eyes. He’s quoting back what Rantaro said directly to him. “Hurry on now before I change my mind.”

  


Shuichi lets out a laugh and turns to enter the cafe. A tiny brass bell rings above his head, and the barista calls out, “Be with you in a second!” She has a faint Japanese accent, Shuichi notes with a smile. Her hair is a pale blue, too. An odd coincidence, considering what they’re here for.

  


Of course, it might be less of a coincidence, Shuichi realises in a moment, because when the barista turns around, Shuichi sees that her nametag reads, AKI.

  


\---

  


“I’m not staying in a foster home,” said Jack quietly. Aki turned and looked at him. He was sitting on his knees over a box of clothes, but he wasn’t folding anything. He was just staring down at it, perhaps unwilling to meet her eyes. She gazed at him for a moment, waiting for him to continue, but he didn’t.

  


“Where will you stay, then?” She asked, carefully. The rise and fall of his shoulders was limp and a bit pathetic. Aki’s heart gave a sad little squeeze. He had hardly smiled at all since… well, that was to be expected. She was having a difficult time thinking of anything to smile about.

  


“Listen, Aki,” Jack’s tone was more urgent, but he still didn’t look at her. “I’ll take you to the police, okay? It’s been long enough. Three years. I can’t believe your family hasn’t come breaking our door down by now to get you back.” After Kikuko, Aki could, but she didn’t say anything. There could be any number of reasons for why they didn’t come find her. Her parents had so many kids to deal with, maybe they were just beyond distracted with caring for them all. Maybe they thought it was her fault for disappearing. Maybe they simply couldn’t find her. She didn’t know. “You shouldn’t have to stay in foster care with me,” Jack continued, interrupting Aki’s train of thought.

  


She tried to wrap her head around what he was saying. Take her to the police. There, she would explain what had happened, and her parents would be contacted, and they’d come take her home. She’d see all her sisters again, and Rantaro. Go back to a regular life in Japan. Nothing will have changed, probably. She’d see Kei again. All her younger sisters. She’d be the eldest. Take the responsibility. Do everything that she had done before. Deal with the gaping hole that was Kikuko’s absence.

  


“Besides, you’re not even an orphan. You shouldn’t have to live like one. I’ll manage on my own. Find some way to get an apartment. You have a life to get back to, one that I should have been trying harder to get you back to. One that you should already be living.” Jack fell silent momentarily, but then said, much more strongly, “You deserve to go back to your family.”

  


And quietly, Aki replied, “You and Alicia are my family, Jack.”

  


He turned and looked at her, finally, green eyes filling with tears, and Aki thought,  _ don’t think about it, don’t think about it,  _ because she knew if he broke down she wouldn’t be able to say what she wanted to. Wouldn’t be able to have a steely resolve. She wanted to go home and see her sisters and her brother and her family again. She wanted to return to Japan and laugh with her older sister and take care of the younger ones. But beyond all of that she knew, she knew deep inside of herself that if she left, if she went to the police and she left… she would never be able to stop thinking about the boy she left behind.

  


“I want to stay here. With you. Not foster care!” She said quickly, before he could protest. “You said you won’t stay in a foster home, so I won’t either. We can-- we can live on the streets, or something, if that was what you were planning to do. Whatever you do, I’ll follow you. I want-- I don’t want to go back to Japan when-- when you’re still here.” The  _ I don’t want to leave you behind,  _ was implied, but Aki wasn’t sure if he understood.

  


“I can’t ask that of you.” Jack said.

  


“You’re not. I’m asking that you let me stay.” Aki returned, fighting to keep her voice steady.

  


“It’s not going to be easy. Being homeless isn’t-- it’s worse than living like this, okay? And I can’t-- I can’t take care of you, not really.”

  


“You’re fourteen.” Aki rolled her eyes. “I’m fourteen. We’ll take care of each other.”

  


“Aki, I--”   
  
“You said you’d take me to the stars, Jack.” Aki bit her lip. “So take me.”

  


He stared at her for a long moment, and then pitched forward, and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. Aki didn’t let go.

  


\---

  


“Autumn,” Shuichi says, without meaning to, in English. That’s what the English translation is, of Aki; it means autumn.

  


The barista, apparently named Aki, raises an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?” She doesn’t sound offended, merely confused. Admittedly, it’s a bit of a strange thing to say out of nowhere-- Shuichi feels his face warming a little bit, but his heart is pounding hard in his chest, and it’s all he can do to keep from blurting that he thinks she’s Rantaro’s sister and running outside to grab him. He should talk to her first, at the very least.

  


“Ah, s-sorry,” he apologises for his abruptness, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your nametag, Aki. It means autumn.”

  


“Oh, yeah.” Aki nods, running a hand through her pale blue hair. Her skin is pale (she and Kei are light-skinned) and scattered with freckles, crawling up her ears and down her neck, and her eyes are a dark blue. Pretty, but professional, Shuichi thinks. Very distantly professional. “Do you speak Japanese?”

  


“Uhm, yes,” Shuichi replies, in Japanese, cursing himself for the brief hesitation. “I’m from Japan, actually. And you?”

  


She appraises him for a moment, and with a glance over her shoulder, switches over to Japanese. “I am, yeah. Came here when I was eleven.” Eleven! That’s how old Rantaro’s sister was. Not that there was any doubt that she’s the Aki they’re looking for, but still, the small bit of confirmation makes Shuichi’s heart race even faster. “I don’t remember very much about it, to be honest. My teen years were spent here in New York.” She pauses, as though realising that she needs to be professional, since Shuichi is a customer, despite being Japanese, and so she clears her throat. “A-Anyway, what can I--”

  


“I’m sorry,” Shuichi cuts in quickly. “I don’t mean to interrupt you, but, ah, this is going to be a strange question, but, is your surname Amami, by chance?”

  


Aki’s eyes widen dramatically. She stares at him, as though starstruck, for a very long moment, and then nods. She doesn’t speak, but the  _ why do you ask?  _ is pretty much implied.

  


“It’s just,” Shuichi hesitates. “I’m here with-- hold on a moment.” He steps away from the counter, leaving a very confused Aki standing there, and sticks his head back out the door, to where his boyfriend is standing, and calls his name, trying to keep his voice under control.

  


\---

  


Eight years was a long time to spend away from one’s family.

  


Aki was having a hard time thinking about it. Most nineteen year olds she knew were just moving out of their parents’ houses, settling in on their own, going to college, getting jobs, whatever. She couldn’t imagine living a life like that. Even though, once upon a time, it had seemed like that would be the only reality.

  


Jack was fast asleep, had been for perhaps an hour by then. His head was resting on her lap, though she didn’t think he did it on purpose. She didn’t mind, anyway. They hadn’t really spoken about it, but she thought that she was in love with him. After all that time, she didn’t know how she couldn’t be.

  


Thoughtlessly, she ran a hand through his hair. Someday, she thought… she wanted to go back to Japan. See if she couldn’t find her family herself. She google searched them every once in a while. Read about some business connections her father was making, Rantaro graduating from a super prestigious academy… it seemed they were living entirely separate lives from her. They moved on after she disappeared. She didn’t know if she was grateful for it, or if she was resentful. Most days, she was too busy to really even care.

  


It was too late, by then, to go back to the police. She knew that. Part of her still wondered what would’ve happened if she had gone to them all those years ago, if she hadn’t stayed and gotten to know Alicia, and Jack, and lived a life completely different from the one she knew in Japan. Perhaps she never would’ve suffered. Perhaps she never would have loved.

  


Aki pondered this, and then closed her eyes. Even if she was sent back in time, she wouldn’t have done anything differently. She fell asleep not at peace, but knowing that she was exactly where the world wanted her to be.

  


\---

  


Shuichi watches the moment when Aki and Rantaro’s eyes meet. The surprise on Rantaro’s face that quickly turns into elation, and then teary-eyed disbelief, and meanwhile on Aki’s features, which are as clear as day, he sees befuddlement, and then watches it dawn on her what’s happening, and then he sees the smile spread across her features. He looks away when they embrace, though, despite hearing one (or both?) of them as they start to cry. It’s not his to watch.

  


Outside, the sun has begun to set. It’s late summer by now, mid-September. The sunset will keep coming earlier and earlier. It’ll be autumn, soon.

  


\---

  


She took Jack with her. She wasn’t sure, at first, if he would even say yes; NASA was in America, after all, and even after all this time that was still his dream, to be an astronaut, but when she asked him if he wanted to come back with her, he smiled softly, and said, “I didn’t think you’d want me along.”   
  


Which was a ridiculous thing to think, and she told him so, but she couldn’t blame him. Jack hadn’t exactly lived a life that would give him unwavering belief in himself. But it wasn’t too late to change it.

  


Her sisters weren’t waiting for her in Japan, apparently. Other than Tsubaki and Mina, the rest of them were still spread out across the world, waiting for Rantaro to find them. Kei, Rantaro said, was probably still in Australia, which was the last place he saw her. And Aki wanted to find them, bring them home like she was being brought, but… she had other priorities.

  


It started to rain the day that they were boarding the plane to go back to Japan. It was cold, and everything was turning grey, and it was that very dreariness, the end of summer dead feeling, that she hated so much about the season for which she was named. But for some reason, feeling the rain on her face, Aki felt a very warm feeling unfurling in her chest, and identified it as happiness. The kind of happiness that can be felt even without smiling.

  


In the rain, Aki tilted her head up towards the sky, spread her arms, and began to sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"kiku" is the japanese word for chrysanthemum. ko means child. kikuko's name translates into english as "child of chrysanthemum", or perhaps "chrysanthemum child"  
**shinkansen is what the japanese call their bullet train, if you didn't pick that up from context clues
> 
> i know, it's sad. the original outline for this chapter was even sadder but i was out of spoons
> 
> FIFTEEN THOUSAND WORDS WHAT THE FUCK
> 
> anyway aki is one of my favourites, due entirely to her name, and i'm aware she's a filthy heterosexual, but,,, jack has rights okay
> 
> uhm uhm uhm i don't really know what else to say. this one took me a hot minute to write. but it's here! and the ending is sloppy. but i wanted to get it out
> 
> i am sorry alicia :( the nice mom characters always die


	5. Mahoko Hamada Amami

Mahoko was surprised that her entire face hadn’t turned green yet. To be fair, though, it wasn’t like there was a surplus of light in the cabin to see it with. Just the bits of sunshine that streamed in from above deck, and what little light peeked in through the circular window directly opposite where she was curled into a ball. But maybe she wasn’t the type to turn green when she felt nauseous. She wouldn’t really know, as she had never looked in a mirror while feeling seasick before, and to be honest she wasn’t about to start.

The boat rocked back and forth on the waves, and Mahoko drew her knees closer in to her chest. Everyone else was above deck, chattering. It made sense. It was a nice, sunny day. Perfect for motoring down the canal and taking a tour of Venice. Mahoko half wanted to be up there with the rest of them, laughing and talking about how nice it was to be in Italy, but she didn’t have the stomach for it. The heat made it worse, actually. Something about the swaying, and the tightness of the life jacket around her abdomen, and the thick, heavy heat of mid-summer all combined to make her want to empty to contents of her stomach. Not that she ever felt particularly okay when they took out the boat. Mahoko got seasick all the time.

She figured that telling her mother would probably be the wisest course of action. Telling Amami (which was what she was calling the man her mother remarried, as he was not her father, but only ever in her head for Mahoko didn’t verbalise thoughts like that) that she felt nauseous would probably just lead to her being instructed to take some pills and lie down below deck. Which she had been doing for the past half hour. He didn’t take her seriously. Or anything seriously, as it pertained to them. That was why so many of their sisters had been lost-- including Mahoko’s biological little sister, Kasumi, back in Paris several months ago. And then Tsubaki right after her, and Satsuki next, just after her.

At any rate, her mother would listen to her. Of all of Amami’s prospects, Mahoko’s own mother was the most understanding. Of course, part of the reason that Mahoko thought as much was likely owed to the fact that she was her mother, but to be fair, all her step-moms were far too talkative. She liked her own mom. She was quiet. And she understood the things that Mahoko said; more importantly, the things that she didn’t say.

With a sigh, Mahoko closed her eyes and tilted her head forward, trying to fall asleep. If she could do that, escape into her own mind and forget everything else, then she would be alright. Sleeping was her solace whenever she felt nauseous like this. It wasn’t uncommon for her to upchuck after doing so, but usually they’d be on land by that point, and so Mahoko could find a toilet and her family need not know anything about it. Her mother was right up there, she could just get to her feet and go tell her, but it wasn’t really that easy.

Mahoko had a difficult enough time at restaurants asking for a refill on water, or an extra napkin. And speaking to strangers about trifle things was easier, often times, than talking to her family. There were just so many of them, and they were so loud. Amami especially had such a very loud, boisterous laugh. Mahoko didn’t like it. Her own father, who she rarely saw anymore, was a quieter man. Like her mother, she supposed, but he tended more towards anxious than understanding, like Mahoko did. Though she thought that perhaps she had inherited his anxiety by tenfold with how difficult it was to express how she was feeling to anybody. She could hardly ask for souvenirs on trips, much less something related to her own needs. The very thought of it made her stomach churn worse than the boat did.

Suffice to say, interrupting the journey to say that she felt sick was out of the question. She didn’t want to ask anybody to go out of their way to accomodate for her wellbeing. Besides, it wasn’t like this was her first time feeling nauseous. Her mother might not, but one of the others was bound to ask why she hadn’t said anything until then, or worse, think she was making it up because she hadn’t. They didn’t really understand how anxiety worked, her family.

No, better she not say anything.

Still, her stomach’s churning was becoming impossible to ignore. As she pulled herself to her feet, she swayed, felt her stomach lurch in an annoyingly obnoxious way, and swallowed down the saliva that was pooling in her mouth. Her head was spinning, and underneath her feet, the boat was still rocking. She braced herself on one of the walls and shook her head quickly. She had to figure out something to--

“Mahoko? You okay?” Rantaro poked his head down into the cabin. His hair was windswept, and though he was smiling, Mahoko could tell he was tired. She tried to manage a smile for him. Rantaro, at least, she  _ could  _ consider her brother, because unlike his father, he actually acted like one. More so than she was expecting. It was Rantaro who taught her to tie her shoelaces five years ago when her mother remarried. It would be difficult to hate him if she tried. “You’ve been down there for a while.”

She contemplated coming clean to Rantaro, who she was sure would understand where she was coming from, but eventually just shrugged. “I’m okay,” she said steadily, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. “Just, I really need to pee,” she added, without thinking too hard about it. The look Rantaro gave her was incredulous. (There was a bathroom in the cabin. Mahoko was, at that moment, bracing herself on the door. She shifted her hand so it rested fully on the wall instead.) “And the smell in the bathroom makes me feel sick,” this, at least, was certainly the truth. If she went in there, she would, without a doubt, vomit.

“Huh.” Rantaro paused. “Well, I’ll ask Dad to dock. I kind of have to pee too.” He shot her a quick smile and then vanished back above deck. Mahoko didn’t bother listening for his voice as he spoke to their parents. Amami would say yes. He always did, when it came to Rantaro. Not that this was a source of resentment for Mahoko. As much as she imagine that her surrogate father-figure would be dismissive of her needs, as she had never actually tried to advocate for them, she couldn’t feel rational being discontent about things she didn’t know for sure. What she did know for sure, though, was that unless it was to leave one of their sisters behind, Rantaro was never told no, about anything.

Mahoko resumed her seat on the floor but tilted her head back this time, closing her eyes and swallowing down another wave of dizziness. It was fine. She would think about other things. That was the way she had been dealing with the losses since Maemi in Mexico City. Kasumi, Tsubaki, and Satsuki were just extra practice. Mahoko was something of an expert when it came to avoiding thinking about things that she didn’t want to think about. She had a whole party up her sleeve of things to bring out when her mind started going places she didn’t want it to. Lines she drew before getting too near to topics that would lead her down paths to things she wasn’t supposed to think about.

She was plenty good at such things, because Mahoko spent so much time in her own head, time that would’ve been spent talking, were she a different person, was always spent thinking. It hadn’t always been this way; back before Rui went missing, Mahoko recalled that she was at least a little bit more talkative. But Rui disappeared precisely because she was so quiet. Nobody even knew when she got lost, or where. Just in London. Somewhere in London. And after that, Mahoko started thinking…  _ if I’m quiet like that, will I get lost too?  _ She wasn’t really planning on testing her hypothesis. She imagined that another sister disappearing would tear her mother apart. And Rantaro. But it was something to think about, at least. And Mahoko did a whole lot of that.

“Hey,” Rantaro’s face appeared again above the ladder. He was smiling. Just as he spoke, the boat came to a stop, and Mahoko felt footsteps from above the cabin. “We’re docking. C’mon, you and me are finding a bathroom.”

“Just you and me?” asked Mahoko, getting to her feet and walking over to the ladder. She hoisted herself up most of the rungs, but on the last one, Rantaro gripped her hand and helped her pull herself above deck. She only took off her safety vest when they had hopped onto land, and Mahoko felt her stomach begin to settle with the absence of pressure on her chest.

“Yeah,” said Rantaro, apparently having heard her, but spaced off somewhere between helping her up and tying the boat down. “Everyone else wants to explore a bit. We’re the ones who have to pee, y’know? We’re meeting back at the boat in half an hour.”

Mahoko thought,  _ that’s precisely how four out of seven of our lost sisters became that,  _ but she didn’t say as much. Instead, she replied, “Okay,” and let Rantaro take her hand to go find a bathroom together. She dimly registered her brother telling her something about Venice, the city on water-- some interesting factoid he learned online, or perhaps in a pamphlet, but in truth Mahoko wasn’t really listening. She was thinking more about what they would see when they returned to the boat. Hikaru, Kei, Koharu, and Mina? Waiting for them to return? Or just three of them, and one of them gone, disappeared somewhere in Venice, somewhere their  _ father  _ isn’t going to bother looking?

It really wasn’t fair of her to be so spiteful about it. Or so certain that someone was going to disappear. Mahoko shut off her mind again and tried to listen to Rantaro speak.

\---

“This is a sailboat,” Kyoko remarks, her eyebrows raised in what Rantaro thinks is mild interest. He doesn’t know her well enough to truly ascertain, but judging by the amused smile on Shuichi’s face, he thinks that it’s a fair assumption. Of course, it’s fair that she’d be surprised, since she’s never seen the boat before.

In lieu of responding, Rantaro grabs the handrail and pulls himself onto the boat, unclipping his backpack and dropping it onto the floor. He digs around in the brain for the keys and when he finds them, unlocks the door to the cabin so that he can toss his backpack down. There are life vests hung up down there, so he climbs the ladder and kicks off his shoes before letting himself drop. Unfortunately, he doesn’t think that, now that Shuichi is twenty three, he’s going to be able to fit the Hello Kitty PFD anymore. It was a marvel that he could even wear it in the first place, since Tsubaki was so young when it was hers.

He takes out his phone and snaps a quick picture of it to text to her. Kyoko might fit it, but he’s a bit too afraid of her to ask, so when he reemerges from below deck, it’s with three plain life vests on his arm.

“Here,” after handing them to Kyoko and Shuichi, he pulls on his own and stretches his arms over his head. Damn, he smells terrible. He didn’t notice while they were walking, but now that he’s actually on the boat, on the water… yeah, he could probably use a shower. They aren’t planning on getting a hotel room in Venice, but maybe they can find a swimming pool or something and use their showers. Rantaro’s never been to any Italian swimming pools, though, so he’s not really sure what that would entail. “Go ahead and climb on. You might want to take off your shoes, though.”

“Ah, I don’t know about that.” Shuichi grins. “After ten days on the road, I don’t think I want to curse anybody with the smell of my feet.”

“Suit yourself,” Rantaro laughs, tossing a tube of sunscreen at him. Shuichi catches it and clutches it between his teeth as he climbs onto the boat. After that, he turns around to help Kyoko on board. “But I hear that  _ trainers  _ don’t dry very quickly, and you may have noticed that while our vessel can go pretty fast, she’s not the dryest.”

“Especially if we have optimal sailing conditions,” Kyoko, after getting on deck, moves to the other side of the boat to peer off into the waves. The water is choppier over there, Rantaro notices. They might be able to get some good sailing in before resorting to the motor. It’s a good thing that his father just got an oil change. “I’m sure none of us will smell anything if you dip your feet into the water, Shuichi.”

“At a marina?” Shuichi asks, looking appalled. “I might as well be dipping my feet into an oil tank.” Kyoko snorts, and Rantaro finds himself chuckling. It’s true. Marinas aren’t known for their water quality. He looks into the water, frowning. There’s a star fish clinging to the side of the dock. How can any sea creatures survive in this kind of toxicity? The water is shiny and opaque with oil from all the boats, and bits of microplastic are floating around. Rantaro is excited to get out into open water. “I think I’ll take off my shoes and go hide in the cabin so that nobody has to suffer but me.” He’s joking, of course; nobody will be able to smell anything once they get going, and when they’re out of the marina they’ll all probably be kicking their feet off the side of the boat, but it makes Rantaro laugh anyway.

“It seems like there’s a good amount of wind out there,” Kyoko says thoughtfully. Shuichi offers her the sunscreen and she takes it, getting a squirt in the palm of her hand and beginning to rub her arms, which are exposed due to the short sleeves of her t-shirt. “Are you going to put the sail up?”

Rantaro grins. “Of course I am, there’s no fun in motoring the whole time. Have you been sailing before, Kyoko?”

“Once or twice,” she replies vaguely. “As per necessity.”

“Ah, yeah, I forgot to ask,” Shuichi looks up from where he’s gathering lines from their places around the ship to make it easier when they rig the sail. “What business did you have in Austria, Kyoko?”

They were in Slovenia, actually, on business for Rantaro’s father. Some connection he wanted to make with a couple wealthy parties there but was too busy to fly out for. Rantaro doesn’t mind. He and Shuichi planned to hike to Trieste (where they are now) and take the boat to Venice to look for Mahoko afterwards. Halfway through their time in Ljubljana, though, Kyoko reached out to them. She must have heard they were also in Europe. They agreed to meet up in Villach, which is on the border of Austria, and hike together to Trieste.

Rantaro could’ve made the journey here in five days, on his own. It’s only ninety five miles and twenty miles a day is no problem for him. But he multiplied the travel time because he wasn’t sure what Kyoko’d be up to. With Shuichi alone it would probably be fine, but expecting that level of exertion from travel partners probably isn’t the most courteous thing. You’d think Rantaro would have a pretty good handle on that kind of thing by now, since he and Shuichi have been traveling together for seven years, but some of the finer details can get lost on him from time to time.

“Things that I’m not technically in the position to disclose,” Kyoko replies, glancing at her cell phone. Rantaro understands, and Shuichi seems to as well. Kyoko works for the same group that Mukuro works for. Some top-secret do-gooder organisation that tracks down criminals on an international scale. Whatever she was doing in Austria, it was probably dangerous, and also probably not something that she can just say out loud. As they watch, though, Kyoko shuts off her phone and walks over to the cabin, tossing it below deck. It lands with a thud. She gives a rueful smile. “But I could use a little bit of input from you on it, Shuichi. Just not in the marina.”

“Oh, alright.” Shuichi nods. “That makes a bit of sense.”

  
“Well, then.” Rantaro walks over to the motor. “Better get out onto the water so that we can talk, huh?”

\---

Diana smoothed down her apron, letting out a sigh and glancing at the clock on the wall. It was only just past noon. She had no business being so tired. It had just been a long night, she supposed.

Business wasn’t very good this early in the day. She glanced behind herself into the kitchen, where the smell of garlic was wafting from under her husband Gianpietro’s talented hands. He caught her look and she noticed the twitch of his black beard that meant he was smiling. She returned the expression and turned around, sighing. He could coax those out of her like nobody’s business. It was no wonder they’d been married for so long.

The brass bell on the door at the entrance to the restaurant jingled and Diana glanced over, wondering if there was a rare couple coming in for lunch. It wasn’t that they didn’t have lunch options, it was just that the people who lived in this area knew they did much better when it came to dinner. Usually the people who came in for lunch were tourists. Which, admittedly, there were plenty of to go around in Venice.

Sure enough, the people entering were definitely not Italian. Japanese, actually, if she was correct. A boy, maybe a young teen, with green hair, holding the hand of a little girl (Diana estimated around ten years old) with long chestnut curls and striking dark eyes. The boy was talking to her in a language that Diana didn’t understand-- Japanese, without a doubt-- but he stopped when he met Diana’s gaze. She didn’t think this was the kind of restaurant that two kids would come eat at by themselves. As Diana grabbed a stack of menus from the counter behind her, she glanced past them through the door, looking for their parents.

Just as she was about to ask them if they could at least speak English, which Diana knew from serving a fair amount of customers, the boy spoke up in Italian.

“Hi, sorry,” he cleared his throat. His pronunciation wasn’t bad; Diana was a bit impressed. He certainly had an accent though. “My sister and I have to use the bathroom, but we weren’t sure where to go, is it alright if we use yours?”

Diana didn’t have much of a policy with the restrooms. If it was a couple adults standing in front of her, she might have urged them to buy something first, but she had always had a weak spot for children. She wasn’t able to have any of her own, after all. So she smiled. “Of course, they are both back there. Boy’s on the left, girl’s on the right.”

“Thank you.” He smiled, and then nudged his sister, gesturing for her to walk with him. Diana watched them go, heard the telltale opening and closing of the bathroom doors, and walked back over to where she was standing before, returning the menus to their previous spot. What a responsible young man, learning a bit of Italian to help his sister around. They didn’t look very much like brother and sister-- Diana wouldn’t have assumed that they were related-- but that didn’t mean anything. Perhaps their parents looked a lot different. Or perhaps one of their parents was in a similar situation to her, with infertility. In which case, her heart went out to them.

The door opened and closed a second time, and this time it was a couple customers. These ones, unlike the boy from just now, spoke only English, and when they thought Diana couldn’t understand them, took to using dramatic hand gestures as they asked for coca cola, or all things. Diana was insulted that they didn’t think a restaurant owner in  _ Venice  _ would be at least conversational in English. Americans, probably, based on their accents. It was to be expected of Americans.

She as she was heading back to the kitchen to get bread from her husband, she noticed the little girl standing in the hallway outside the bathrooms, leaning against the wall. She seemed deep in thought. There was a little crease in between her eyebrows that Diana thought aged her beyond what a ten-year-old girl should look like. She was likely waiting for her brother to finish using the bathroom.

Diana looked away. Watching a little girl wait for her brother was a bit weird. She chatted, in  _ English,  _ with the customers, and after taking their orders, headed back into the kitchen. Gianpietro smiled at her again, reaching up with one hand to adjust his hairnet.

“I’m surprised we have business,” he said lightly. Diana offered a fleeting smile, clipping the order sheet to the line near above the oven. They had other people who worked in the kitchen, but they weren’t to be coming until around three. Gianpietro liked space to cook by himself for a few hours. Diana didn’t question it, because business was slow until four anyway.

“Well, only a tourist couple.” She glanced back into the seating area, watching the American couple chatter as they drank their sodas. At least they seemed fond of each other, despite being somewhat rude. “There were a couple Japanese children in here asking to use the restroom, so I let them. I don’t think they plan on purchasing anything, though I’d love to feed them. That boy especially is very skinny.”

“You want to feed every child who walks in here,” chuckled Gianprietro.

“Ohoho, and you don’t?” She nudged him with her elbow. “You’re the one working the kitchen, love. It’s all men are good for, you know.”

“Hmm.” He raised his eyebrows at her, and Diana laughed. She didn’t mean that. She and Gianpietro owned the restaurant together. But she had a better mind for business. And she couldn’t cook to save her life, that was the truth. “Is that why you keep me around then? Because I can melt garlic butter on bread?”

“Hush,” Diana snorted, but before she could continue speaking, she heard the bell on the door ring again. She half wondered if it was another customer, but when she looked out, she just caught the flash of chestnut curls bobbing as the little girl left. Huh. Did her brother finish using the restroom while she was talking to Gianpietro? They left quietly. Perhaps they wanted to thank her again but didn’t see her and so decided to leave. “The children are gone,” she told her husband.

“If they don’t speak Italian, they probably felt awkward being here.” Gianpietro remarked.

“I suppose,” Diana murmured. “Still, something is… ah, I shouldn’t worry about it. Hurry up with that food, you useless man.”

“You’ve only just given me the order,” protested Gianpietro, but he cracked a smile when Diana leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. They both knew she was only teasing him. She squeezed his shoulder before stepping out into the main part of the restaurant, busying herself by organising cutlery on the empty tables, and waited for her husband to finish cooking.

It must have been around fifteen minutes later that, as Diana finished serving the American couple, she turned around and noticed the boy from before standing outside the bathroom. He appeared to be waiting, though, when Diana got a closer look at his expression, she saw he was wearing a look of poorly masked concern. She bit her lip and walked over.

“What are you still doing here? Your sister must have left twenty minutes ago,” she called over to him. The boy startled, looking at her, and Diana almost regretted saying it because his eyes became wide as saucers.

“What?” He asked, very quietly. “She did?” He pushed off the wall where he was leaning, running a hand through his hair. “Why? What was she--” he broke off, muttering something in Japanese, and quickly shook his head. “Nevermind, she’s probably back at the boat waiting for me. Thank you for letting me use your restroom,” he said quickly.

“Of course,” Diana frowned. She watched the boy rush over to the exit, waving over his shoulder before slipping out the door, and wondered if it was really alright to let him go off on his own. But it wouldn’t have been her place to stop him, so instead she watched him go.

\---

“Cult activity?” Shuichi repeats. The look that Kyoko gives him is amused.

“You’re like Makoto, whenever I give him a piece of information he always repeats it back to me in shock.” Kyoko remarks lightly, and Shuichi’s face reddens; something that Rantaro hasn’t seen it do in a while. It brings a smile on his face, though he tries to mask it for Shuichi’s sake. “But yes, that’s what I was investigating in Austria. The case has been all over the news for the past couple of years, I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. It hasn’t reached the public yet that there have been killings in Austria, but it will.”

“Which case?” Shuichi frowns, leaning forward and resting his head on his hands. Rantaro is only half-listening, of course; he’s manning the till so that Shuichi and Kyoko can talk, and sailing requires a degree of focus, but he’s following their conversation somewhat. “Ah, I keep up with a number of them…”

“Could it have anything to do with the one Mukuro mentioned to me a few years ago?” Rantaro frowns, trying to remember the conversation in question. He was really tired; they’d only just arrived in San Francisco when it came up. But Mukuro definitely talked about a cult. “A cult related to the one that inducted Maki and made her an assassin.”

“Yes, based in the Philippines.” Kyoko says. Rantaro swallows hard, trying not to let his mind travel in  _ that  _ direction. It’s probably just a coincidence. “But we aren’t sure anymore if they’re based in the Philippines.” He pretends not to feel relieved when she says that. “We know that a lot of their recruits have come from that area, but recent evidence shows that they have the resources to take young children from areas all around the world.”   
  


“What’s the age range?” asks Shuichi.

“Five to seven year olds. At least, those are the ages of the children who we suspect to have been taken in by them. This is all according to police reports that have been filed of disappearances in that region. The killer I’m looking at in particular is the chrysanthemum killer, of course, because they’re the most high profile--”

“Oh!” Shuichi sits up straight. Kyoko gives him a look, perhaps because he interrupted, and he smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, Kyoko, I was just-- the chrysanthemum killer is linked to the cult?”

“It’s fine,” she waves her hand. “And yes, I at least think they are. They fit the profile. Based on information that we’ve gathered on them, they induct incredibly young children and have them start killing at around nine or ten. Depending on when they’re taken. The chrysanthemum killer has reported cases going all the way back to eight years ago, but they’ve only started taking on political killings as of recently. And I say recent in a very relative sense, because it’s been going on for several years now.”

“You think it’s one person?” Shuichi asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, it’s just-- if all the killer has to do is put down a white chrysanthemum-- well, they aren’t exactly hard to get-- couldn’t it be multiple people?” He hums. “I’m just wondering how much of the killings are truly done by this one culprit, and how many are copy-cat cases.”

“It’s a good hypothesis,” Kyoko smiles. “But I don’t think so. This isn’t information that you have any access to, so don’t blame yourself for not coming to the same conclusion, but I had the opportunity to examine the bodies of some of the victims. The killer does it the exact same way each time.”

Shuichi thinks for a moment, and then suggests, “Back of the skull, right? Right here,” he points at a spot on his own head, right over the nape of his neck, and Kyoko nods. “Maki mentioned it a couple years ago. She called it a standard assassination, though.”

“And so it is.” Kyoko crosses her arms over her PFD, her expression smug. “But our killer is extremely precise. To the point of fanaticism.” Rantaro remembers the very careful way that Kikuko always took care of her things. How they couldn’t be an inch out of place, or else she got upset.  _ It’s a coincidence.  _ He’s just paranoid. Looking for similarities because he’s worried that it could be her. It couldn’t. (Even if Kikuko would’ve been ten eight years ago. Just a coincidence.) “They have to have be an extremely sharp shot to do everything so carefully.”

“You suspect that it’s one person because only one person could be that exact.” Shuichi paraphrases.   
  


“Right.” Kyoko nods. “Someone who disappeared around twelve years ago, I would estimate-- though there’s room for error.” There’s room for error. It’s not  _ exactly  _ twelve years ago.

“Do you have any people who you suspect were taken?” Shuichi’s brow is furrowed, like he’s thinking. He can’t be on the same train of thought that Rantaro is, otherwise he’d look more concerned. Rantaro tries to relax. If Shuichi isn’t thinking it, then there’s not much of a chance of it being true, right? He’s definitely just paranoid. “And, ah, what’s your planned course of action for dealing with them.”

“Depending on who they are and what their stance is after we apprehend them,” Kyoko muses, answering the second question first. “We may or may not offer them protection in exchange for allowing us to help rehabilitate them. I think personally working with Maki might be beneficial to them, as she’s been through a similar order-- she’s training now to become a mental health counselor, isn’t she?”

“Last I heard, yes. I think she’s planning on moving back to Japan for a while while Kaito is in space.” Shuichi replies.

“Right. If she’d be willing to talk to anybody we get out, then that would be good. We have other counselors working with us, but my gut instinct is to ask Maki for obvious reasons. As for people who aren’t so willing, or, god forbid, actually intend on continuing to do that work…” Kyoko shrugs. “There isn’t much else we can do in that case other than turning them in to the authorities.”

“I see.” Shuichi murmurs. He pauses. “And, ah, my first question?”

“Of course, we have a list of potential victims,” Kyoko says. “People who went missing around that time twelve years ago, and other young children who disappeared and weren’t ever found. Specifically in areas in the back-country-- children who went missing around Everest, for example, or the Olympics in America. There have been a couple cases in the Philippines, I don’t know if you’re familiar with this area, I might just be saying words, but we’ve got our eye on some disappearances in Puerto Princesa--”

“Shit!” Rantaro drops the line attached to the sail, feels his stomach fold in on itself.

Shuichi springs to his feet and catches it before the sail can start flapping, pulling it in tight and cinching it again. Rantaro had been about to pull it in, but now he feels like a pint of blood has drained from his face. If he pitched backwards and off the boat right now, that wouldn’t come across as much of a surprise to him.

Kyoko’s brow furrows. “Are you alright?”

But it’s Shuichi’s gaze, and how meaningful it is, that really makes Rantaro’s stomach turn, because there’s no way that he missed  _ that.  _ He removes his hand from the till and slumps forward, covering his mouth with one hand to prevent from screaming into it.  _ Shit.  _ Hard to really say that it’s  _ just a coincidence  _ now. There’s no evidence that proves to it being somebody else. Rantaro screws his eyes shut and tries unsuccessfully to get his breathing under control, barely feels it when someone (likely Shuichi) sits down next to him to steer the boat.

\---

Mahoko stopped walking, swiveling her head from side to side until her temples began to throb again for reasons entirely separate from any seasickness, and then she sighed. She had to admit it; she was lost.

The churning in her stomach was anxiety, though, rather than nausea. Back when she had been in that restaurant, waiting for Rantaro, one minute stretched into five, and then she counted all the way to two hundred seconds before wondering if perhaps he left without her. The nice woman who let them use the bathroom had disappeared into the kitchen and there were a couple white strangers sitting at a table some ways away from where she was, and they kept glancing at her with their eyebrows knitted together. She knew Rantaro wouldn’t leave without her, but… maybe she took too long? Maybe she was supposed to find her way back by herself?

She thought perhaps she could just knock on the door and ask Rantaro if he was okay, or if he was almost done, but… her stomach clenched when she considered doing it. Maybe she should just wait a little longer?

But how  _ much  _ longer a little longer really was, Mahoko didn’t pay much attention to. After a while her heart was pounding so hard and she was so sure that he had left that her legs moved on her own, and she was speeding out of the restaurant back in the direction of the pier. She’d find him and it would be fine, and maybe she’d think ugly things towards him for leaving her behind, but it wouldn’t matter eventually. She would hide it away in her mind again as she did with all ugly things, and it would disappear after a while.

Mahoko  _ didn’t  _ return back to the pier, though. Rantaro had an excellent sense of direction, one that was very natural. Maemi had too, though she had been lost so long ago and she was only eight when it happened. She got this spark in her eye whenever they went new places, and she would disappear for hours at a time before reappearing again, grinning. It had been why nobody was worried when she went missing in Mexico City. Nobody except for Rantaro. And Mahoko, of course, but she kept such things to herself.

She didn’t share their good instincts, or their good memories. Their good eyes for where to turn, or how to find people. She didn’t know where to turn or how far to go before doing it. Mahoko thought if she just walked straight long enough, she’d find it, but after a while of no results, she got nervous and turned right. The buildings seemed vaguely familiar, but then, all the buildings had a minorly nostalgic feeling to them. A distant, foggy impression that she got from them. They all seemed to blur together into one mess of beautiful architecture, cars rolling along on the streets and a mess of languages zooming by her ears. Mahoko had always been easily overwhelmed, and the more she walked the more her legs ached, and she was only getting more and more lost.

So she stopped. She stopped and she looked around, and wondered if turning back would even be an option at that point. Perhaps Rantaro hadn’t even left without her. Perhaps he was still waiting for her at the restaurant even then. Why would he leave without her, after all? After how freaked out he had been when Satsuki was lost, and Tsubaki and Kasumi before her… of course he wouldn’t leave her alone. The fact she was taking so long was probably driving him up the wall. Did he even know enough Italian to ask that nice woman if Mahoko had left? Would it even occur to him?

Mahoko backtracked just the slightest bit, enough to find a dusty alleyway, and propped herself up against a wall. Her heart was thrumming against her ribs, and she was worried that someone would come and rob her or something, but she didn’t want to keep moving. She just kept getting more and more lost. And it would be harder for Rantaro or her mother-- for she knew Amami wouldn’t even try-- to find her if she got more lost. She tucked her legs into her chest and refused to cry, resting her forehead upon her knees.

  
Was this how Tsubaki felt, after running away? Or perhaps Tsubaki didn’t regret a thing; she was so  _ mad  _ over Kasumi, after all… and why wasn’t Mahoko? Kasumi was her baby sister. Koharu was older than them both, but Kasumi was the youngest. It just wasn’t in Mahoko’s nature, to throw a fit. Not like Tsubaki did, yelling at them and then going quiet, sulking the entire time they were in Barcelona and then eventually disappearing into the night, as though she had never existed to begin with.

In the pit of her stomach, Mahoko felt something that wasn’t nausea  _ or  _ anxiety, but rather deep rooted envy. Burning envy. She grit her jaw and screwed her eyes shut, wishing, wishing, wishing she could be as brave as Tsubaki or Hikaru, wishing she could speak her mind, wishing she could open her stupid dumb mouth and let out her thoughts. She wanted to yell at Amami for losing so many of his children-- his  _ own  _ children too, as Rui and Kikuko were just as gone as Satsuki and Aki-- but more than that she wanted to yell at her mother for marrying such an awful man. If she hadn’t, even if she wouldn’t be married to Mahoko’s father, at least she’d get to see him. And at least Kasumi wouldn’t be somewhere in Paris.

And Mahoko wouldn’t be sitting in an alleyway crying over sisters who weren’t supposed to be hers in the first place. She wouldn’t be lost in some _stupid _city in a _stupid _country in an _entirely different continent _all because she couldn’t open her _stupid, _stupid mouth and say she wanted to throw up. She hated all of them, every last one, for pretending things were just fine, for laughing over the sunny day, for eating ice cream and singing songs while they pulled in the sails. Mahoko didn’t want to be lost, she wanted to go home, back to Japan, and go see her father and cry over Kasumi like she hadn’t had the chance to yet because they hadn’t even been back home yet, they were still in _stupid _Europe and surrounded by white people who spoke every language except for Japanese.

Her stomach was starting to hurt again. Mahoko absorbed herself in her anger, in her nausea, and almost twisted it around into sadistic pleasure as she fell asleep.

\---

Kyoko, thankfully, doesn’t ask any questions.

Maybe she wants to, but she holds her tongue, and Shuichi suggests that Rantaro get some time to himself, head below deck into the cabin to mull things over by himself. More likely he’s giving Rantaro the privacy to absorb the information that he unquestionably has put together, but still, it’s an appreciated offer.

“We still have a couple hours left to Venice,” Shuichi remarks, glancing at the itinerary that he and Rantaro put together a week ago, back in Ljubljana. When he looks back up at Rantaro, his gaze is concerned, but not sympathetic, which Rantaro appreciates. “We can sail the rest of the way. I’ll come down and get you when we’re docking.”

He doesn’t put up much of a fight. As much as Rantaro likes to be up above deck, helping out, his head is swimming, and going beneath would give him some time to think anyway. So he finds himself lowering his body down the ladder, jumping off before he reaches the last few rungs so as not to land on his backpack. Briefly Rantaro considers pulling out a book, but he knows he’d never be able to read it. Instead he walks over to one of the cushioned seats, opposite the bed and the window, and then drops down to sit, crossing his legs. This is where Mahoko used to spend all her time during trips. Silently staring out the window.

He could never tell what she was thinking. She just did things and ran off. Every time Rantaro returns to Venice, the beauty of the city on water is overshadowed by an overwhelming anxiety. Mahoko never told anyone else what she was thinking. She simply acted. It used to scare him half to death. And she got lost because of it too, took off from the restaurant and disappeared.

Rantaro isn’t really thinking about Mahoko though, despite the fact that he’s going to Venice again to look for her. He’s thinking about Kikuko instead.

Kikuko followed him everywhere. Really, everywhere. She was his full, biological sister; Mina and Rui were the same, but Kikuko was his last one, the very youngest, as their mother died having her. Kikuko wasn’t old enough to know that, though, when she got lost. She never even knew their mother. Just Miss Hagiwara, who their father remarried almost immediately, and then Miss Nakamura and Miss Akamine after her. Miss Hamada came last. Kikuko knew them as her mother figures, and she seemed to love them a lot. But it wasn’t as though any of Rantaro’s sisters were ever lacking in love.

Anyway, whenever Rantaro split away from the group, Kikuko was there behind him. Following. Asking questions. God, it used to annoy the shit out of him. Rantaro liked his sisters, liked being the older brother and liked taking care of them. He knew, even at eleven, that he had some responsibility to care for them, to be the big kid, to be responsible. But he wanted to be alone  _ sometimes.  _ And Kikuko never gave him the chance to, always clinging to the back of his shirt.

(He would give anything, really anything, if he could turn around and see her following behind him, her thumb propped out of her mouth, her hazel eyes lit up and bright, a curious and innocent smile on her face.)

Kikuko was fussy about things being precise. She was a perfectionist, though she was so young that it was hard to  _ really  _ say that. Rantaro once heard his dad laughing about it to a coworker, dubbing her  _ my little neat-freak,  _ and he had been very uncomfortable, because that was a bit of a demeaning description of Kikuko’s behaviour. But she  _ had  _ been very very particular. Everything she did was so painstaking. Had to be perfect. Had to be… centered. The same every time.

(She was so curious though, so, so curious, and her eyes were always so shiny and eager.)

Rantaro buries his face in his hands and tries to relax his brow, because it’s furrowed so very hard that his temples are beginning to pound.

(He imagines falling off the trail, hurting his leg, screaming until his voice goes numb. He imagines being found by people who say that they’re nice. At six years old, who could fight back against that kind of thing? And Kikuko wanted to please people, to do things perfectly. The slightest reprimand made her burst into tears.)

When he lifts his head again, it’s because Shuichi is kneeling in front of him. Lips press against his forehead, tender, and then his boyfriend whispers, “We’re in Venice.”

\---

Mahoko’s eyes fluttered open. The sky above her was a dark dusty blue, and she heard someone ride by on a bicycle. There were wisps of conversation floating by her ears. Conversation that was familiar but unrecognisable. Words she had heard before but couldn’t understand.

(Dimly, shakily, she dragged herself to her feet and began to walk. They ached, her feet did, and her knees were wooden. Mechanical. She kept moving, though, kept walking. She hardly even knew her destination, only that she had to walk.)

How long was she asleep? She hadn’t meant to fall asleep to begin with. The sun was gone, but it wasn’t dark yet. Dusk. It was getting colder, despite the fact that it was summer. Mahoko shivered, and wondered if the chill was due to the fact that they were on the waterfront. Was Venice a cold place? Mahoko knew only Tokyo. But the air was nowhere near smoggy enough for this to be comparable in any way to Tokyo. She breathed in this salty smelling air, rolled her shoulders and listened to her jointed crackling from staying in that position for so long.

She hadn’t been found during her slumber, which meant that it was more than likely that her family left without her. They weren’t planning on getting a hotel, after all. Perhaps they would stay the night though, while Rantaro (alone, as he was always alone, because nobody helped him, not even Mahoko-- not that that made a difference anymore) looked for hours and hours and didn’t find her. But then they would leave, disappear, and Mahoko would be left behind. They would never come back for her, she supposed. They had never gone back to Puerto Princesa, nor London nor Berlin nor New York City, so why would she be different?

Hikaru would be angry. Hikaru’s anger was much more impressive than Mahoko’s; perhaps because she let it show. She got fiery and loud, she yelled and resented and did not forgive. Hikaru was awful to argue with as she always refused to accept it when she was wrong. However, in this case, she would be Mahoko’s fiercest defender. Even Rantaro wouldn’t yell, he would just stare down at the ground with an empty, sad look on his face. (He never cried anymore.)

Perhaps Koharu would be angry too, though since Satsuki, Mahoko wasn’t sure that Koharu was capable of such assertive responses to situations. Koharu blamed herself for that, for Satsuki, and it was difficult not to see the merit behind it. Mahoko had quietly let go of her anger towards her older sister as they left Berlin, though, because brooding wouldn’t do anything, and obviously Mahoko wasn’t going to act on it.

Her mother. Mahoko was worried about her mother. She closed her eyes and pulled up her mother’s face in her mind. Chestnut hair and dark eyes. Soft face, round limbs. Her mother was so soft-spoken, so kind. She never yelled at anybody. But perhaps she would. Mahoko wished she would.

Her legs kept moving, trudging along. She was auto-piloting, following some invisible map in her brain. She didn’t know where she was going, though, or why she bothered trying. They will have left. They were gone. Mahoko closed her eyes but continued step, step, stepping onwards, opening them as she came up to a traffic light but then closing them when she crossed the street. There were so many voices around her, people, strangers. Going about their days. Living their lives. Being who they were.

Inhale, exhale. The air was so salty. Polluted too, though. The water in the canal was murky. Mahoko had wondered, back before she retreated into the cabin, if her vomit would even make a difference in that disgusting water. But she hadn’t really ended up throwing up, not even when she got to land and was in the position to do so. She just splashed her face with water and waited for Rantaro to finish in the bathroom.

She was so  _ stupid.  _ Of course he didn’t leave her behind. He wouldn’t. If Rantaro had his way they’d all still be in Puerto Princesa, looking for Kikuko. It was her dumb anxiety again, clouding her logic, immobilisaing her, forcing her to make one decision and ignore all of her other options. She had other options. She could’ve waited. She could’ve asked, with some made-up sign language. She could’ve knocked on the door. Instead, what? Rantaro stepped out of the bathroom and waited for her. For how long? Hours? No, couldn’t have been hours, the restaurant workers would have approached him before then. And then? He left? He ran back to the boat, expecting her to be there, but found… nothing?

He looked for her, Mahoko was certain of that. But he hadn’t found her. She tilted her head up to the sky and whispered a silent apology to her brother. He was always so kind to her, to everybody. He would blame himself, too, probably. She wondered where he was right then. Sleeping? Probably not.

The cobblestones ended eventually, and Mahoko found herself standing at the edge of the sidewalk, staring up at the buildings around her. The restaurants she passed were bright and full of people. Crowds coming in for dinner, no doubt. That restaurant she had been at earlier was empty, but they were probably busy by then. She slid her hands into her pockets. What was she going to do? Where would she go? She couldn’t speak Italian. She couldn’t even speak English. She knew Japanese, and a few phrases in English, and  _ hello  _ in Italian.

Mina was smart. Resourceful. She picked up languages fast and when she spoke English she sounded just like television actors, her consonants crisp and her Rs hard and her vowels drawn out, just like people they saw on TV. Rantaro spoke bits and pieces of the languages every where they went; he knew some Tagalog, German, French, Spanish… Amami was good at that stuff too, better even than his children. He could switch fluidly between Japanese and English. Had made good connections by translating in his past. (A self-made business man indeed. Mahoko scoffed aloud, simply because there was nobody there to see it.)

But Mahoko was terrible at it. She spoke and thought in Japanese. It was the only language that made sense to her. She was good with kanji, had katakana all memorised by the time she entered her first year of elementary school. Everything else seemed like lines on papers, fuzzy, not understandable. She wasn’t like Aki, who was proooobably dyslexic. (Aki used to struggle with reading and writing Japanese, too.) Other languages just didn’t make a lot of sense to her. How was she going to survive in Italy?

Mahoko stopped walking, furrowing her brow. All the buildings seemed familiar in that way that places she’d seen in movies always looked. It was like being on a movie set. But her surroundings at that moment in particular were insanely familiar to her. She had been there, specifically, before. She was certain of it. Mahoko quickened her pace, felt her heart beating much, much harder in her chest. Had she backtracked all the way to the restaurant? Had she gotten there on autopilot? Was it really possible?

She had nearly broken into a run by that point, but she skidded to a stop after a moment, chest heaving. There it was, in front of her. It glowed yellow from the windows, and she could hear the sounds of people dining from inside. This was where she used the bathroom. She recognised the sign above the door, the garden of prickly flowers next to the sidewalk. Mahoko hesitated, wanting to walk inside, but after a moment refrained, stepping back and staring up at the building. Should she try again to find the pier? Perhaps they hadn’t left yet. Perhaps they waited for her. Maybe they were still there, still looking for her. Maybe… maybe she still had a chance.

But--

As Mahoko turned around, gazing into the dark, she found herself facing the same problem that she faced earlier, when she thought Rantaro had left her behind. She didn’t know where to go. She clenched and unclenched her hands at her sides, frowning, mulling it over in her head. Going straight forever wouldn’t work. She didn’t  _ know,  _ in any real way, where the dock was. She would just get lost again. It was so dark, the dim light of dusk was rapidly fading, and it was getting colder, and the silhouettes of the other people walking down the sidewalk suddenly seemed much less benign than before. Mahoko bit her lip. She didn’t know what to do, she was only ten. If someone tried to jump her, she wouldn’t be able to fight them off.

Her heart was racing, painful and heavy in her throat. She didn’t know what to do.

The door of the restaurant creaked open behind her; a soft jingling noise making Mahoko pivot on her heel, turning to face the woman who had let her in earlier. Her face was soft, as soft as Mahoko’s mother’s, and her hands were rough. Care-worn. Salt and pepper hair was tied out of her face in a pretty bun. Her eyes, hazel, glew in the dark of the street, and she stared at Mahoko for a very long moment before speaking. She was speaking in Italian, perhaps hoping that as Rantaro spoke it, Mahoko would understand as well, but--

She didn’t. She had no idea what the woman was saying. Her eyes were so very concerned, her forehead wrinkly and her brows pushed together, and when the woman stepped forward, closer, and reached out a hand to rest on her shoulder, Mahoko started to cry.

\---

Rantaro tries to clear his head as he climbs off the boat. The feeling of solid ground beneath him is stabilising, but nowhere near as stabilising as Shuichi’s hand, which slides into his once he’s steady.

He extends a hand to help Kyoko off, but she gracefully swings herself over onto the dock and smiles, small but cocky, as she dusts off her pants. “Which sister are you looking for here?” She asks the question of both of them, but Rantaro finds himself answering. It seems appropriate.

“Mahoko,” he replies. “Uh, she was on the younger side. Ten when she got lost here. I was thirteen.”

“So ten years ago then,” Kyoko says thoughtfully. She hums. “Where have you been looking?”

“Around.” Rantaro shrugs. “It’s hard to say because she left the restaurant we were in and completely vanished. I haven’t been back there since, but I think the odds that she returned to it are pretty low.”

“Ah, I might disagree with you there, actually.” Shuichi hums. “You said you never did figure out why she left without you, right? You only suspected that it was because you took so long in the bathroom.”

“Ahaha, yeah.” Rantaro rubs the back of his neck. “Mahoko had a look of resting displeasure. She brooded a lot, like the people around her bothered her. When the hostess told me she left without me, I assumed she had gotten annoyed by how long I was taking and took off. I don’t know where she went, though. Maybe she was still upset over Satsuki and ran away.” Rantaro doesn’t think that that would be very in-character for Mahoko, though. She held grudges, yeah (not in a very outward way, but Rantaro could tell) but never to her own detriment. And they had assumed that Tsubaki ran away too, in a fit of anger at their family for abandoning their other sisters, but that wasn’t what happened at all.

(Rantaro still has the bracelets she bought him on his wrist.)

“Perhaps she tried to find her way back.” Shuichi murmurs. He squeezes Rantaro’s hand but he has a distant, thoughtful look on his face. “It might be good to check the restaurant again, just in case.” Shuichi usually isn’t wrong about these things. Rantaro supposes that after ten years, Mahoko would have had plenty of time to return to the restaurant, among other things.

“Well, if you need my help at all, you can call me.” Kyoko says, reaching on the boat and pulling her backpack over her shoulders. “I’ll be staying at a hotel in the area for a few weeks. I appreciate your coming to meet me.”

“It was great traveling with you,” Rantaro grins, and then falters. “Hey, and if you want an explanation for earlier--”

“I like to think,” Kyoko begins, “that those years training as a detective haven’t left me entirely stupid.” She smiles. “I’ll talk to you when you’re more comfortable with whatever it was you realised.” She allows Shuichi to hug her, and when Rantaro shakes her hand, he’s surprised by how warm her gloves are. Kyoko waves at them before beginning to walk away, her purple hair barely shifting despite the breeze coming off the water.

Softly, Shuichi says, “Did you want to talk about it?” Rantaro glances over at him, and though he knows what he’s referring to, doesn’t say anything until the other man continues. “About Kikuko, I meant. Did you want to talk about… the likelihood of her being…” he trails off.

“I will.” Rantaro replies. He tries to sound nonchalant, but his voice is tense and he knows Shuichi can tell. “Sorry, I just-- I need--”

“I understand.” Shuichi murmurs. He seems to. “Bring it up whenever, alright?” He leans over and kisses Rantaro on the cheek, squeezing his hand again. “I’m listening when you need me to be.”

\---

Gianpietro didn’t speak much to people other than his wife.

He wasn’t necessarily an antisocial person, it was more that he just preferred listening in conversations, rather than talking. So many people only listened to contribute. It was the nature of conversation. But Gianpietro didn’t care much for such things. He cared more about hearing what other people had to say. People were interesting, they were like gold mines for experiences and insights Gianpietro had no access to otherwise. It was a wasted interaction if he spent it info dumping about himself.

It was why he sort of empathised with the little girl who Diana brought in one night. She was shivering and still crying a little bit, and holding her stomach like she was very hungry, and nobody had to say anything for Gianpietro to know that he had to feed that girl.

She remained silent the whole night, and then the entire day afterwards. At one point she looked pensive, like she really wanted to say something, but eventually she just held her silence. Diana remarked that it was probably because she didn’t speak Italian, or English, actually, but Gianpietro wondered if perhaps there was another reason she wasn’t speaking. There was a hesitance about her, a bitterness. Her movements were weighted. Awfully heavy for that of a ten year old girl.

(And he knew she was ten, because a couple days after Diana brought her inside, he found a way to ask her how old she was, drawing little pictures on a piece of paper, and she held up both of her hands with all five fingers sticking up. Ten. Gianpietro remembered being ten; he used to sit alone on the playground, reading a book, while all the other children ran around and played with each other. Perhaps a bit of it was anxiety, but mostly he just wanted to read. He liked being alone. It was nice.)

A week passed without the little girl saying anything. Gianpietro didn’t even know her name. But one Sunday afternoon, on their day off, the girl approached him in the kitchen. Diana was sleeping, but Gianpietro was wiping off the oven. It was remarkable how filthy it got during the week. He only turned around when the little girl tugged on the hem of his shirt. She had a piece of paper clutched in her hand.

On it, she had drawn a boat, and then what looked like a table with waves in front of it. That made little sense, though, so he had to take a moment to consider it.

“A dock?” He asked. Of course, the little girl didn’t understand him. He continued speaking anyway. “Did you want me to take you to a dock?”

Her eyes were dark brown, like unsweetened coffee. She blinked up at him.

  
Gianpietro hesitated, and then said, “I’m going to grab my coat.” He slipped away for a moment and headed upstairs. He took his own coat, but also one of Diana’s, one that would be too big for the little girl, but was bound to fit her better than any of his own jackets. When he returned to the kitchen, she was still standing there, her drawing in her hand, but when she saw the jackets in his hands, her face lit up. Gianpietro couldn’t suppress a smile, seeing it.

She grabbed onto his hand when they were about halfway to the docks, and he didn’t try to pull his arm away. She was so young, it was probably terrifying for her. How could she have felt when she was out by herself for all those hours that Diana said she must have been alone? Where did she even go? What did she do? How was she left behind by her family in the first place?

When they reached the docks, she let go of his hand and sprinted all the way over to the very edge of the pier, looking around with wide, frantic eyes. Gianpietro didn’t run after her, but he followed, sliding his hands into his pockets. She stood there, Diana’s jacket overlarge on her tiny body, and looked around. Once. Twice. A thousand times, really.

But when she turned around, her face was sad again. Gianpietro wondered what it was she saw; or rather, what she didn’t see. But when she took his hand again, he understood that she wanted to go back.

As they neared the restaurant, the little girl murmured something that he didn’t hear at first. When he asked her to repeat herself, she said, more clearly, “Mahoko.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Mahoko?” He repeated. Was it her name? He would have to look it up when they returned. “Is that you?”

She gave him an unreadable look, pointing at herself with her thumb. “Mahoko,” she repeated, and said something else, in a language that Gianpietro did not understand. Diana had guessed that it was Japanese, though. And the way the syllables sounded, it was a reasonable assumption. Mahoko had to be her name.

Gianpietro nodded, to let her know that he understood. Then, even though he had introduced himself before, he said his own name, and pointed to himself. Thoughtfully, he added, “Diana,” and gestured at the restaurant as they approached it.

Mahoko whispered their names under her breath, and then nodded, averting her gaze. She mumbled something that Gianpietro still couldn’t understand, but then offered a tiny little smile, the first she had given since Diana found her outside, and when they stopped in front of the restaurant, she opened the door for him.

(That night, Gianpietro snuck out to a store near their home and bought a Japanese to Italian dictionary. Maho meant magic, and ko meant child. He didn’t think that it was such an unrealistic thing to call her.)

\---

Tsubaki answers his text as Rantaro is towel drying his hair, fresh out of a shower at a public pool that he and Shuichi found. It’s nice to smell good after all those days of having no sense of self.

_ [Holy crap Rantaro] _

_ [I really hope you don’t still make people wear that thing] _

_ [Lowkey forgot it existed ;;;] _

Rantaro smiles at the message, putting down his phone momentarily to pull his shirt over his head. Tsubaki is back in Japan right now, with their parents. He sees her whenever he and Shuichi are in town, but it’s like a luxury, being able to text her whenever he wants to.

_ [shuichi used to be small enough to fit into it lol] _

_ [NO] _

_ [back in high school] _

_ [DO NOT BULLY HIM I CANT BELIEVE MY BROTHER IS AN EMOPHOBE] _

_ [who taught you that term???] _

_ [Uh oh] _

Sliding his phone into his pocket, Rantaro watches Shuichi stepping out from his own stall, his cowlic dripping water into his eyes. He smiles when they make eye contact, but neither of them says anything until they’re back outside, walking down the sidewalk again.

“So,” Rantaro prompts. “You taught my sister how to bully me.”

“I opened her eyes to a very serious problem with our society.” Shuichi corrects lightly. “Emophobia isn’t a joke, Rantaro.”

Rantaro opens and closes his mouth at the look that Shuichi shoots his way. He can’t help laughing, though, and he laughs harder when Shuichi scrunches up his nose at him. “How do you ever manage to convey genuine anger? You look like an indignified kitten.”

  
“I manage,” Shuichi mutters, pouting. “You’re so rude. This is exactly what I’m talking about. I’m going to tattle on you to Tsubaki.”

“Please don’t,” Rantaro’s plea is invalidated by the fact that he’s still laughing. “She’ll just bully me more. She used to be so passive, but she goes off nowadays. You weren’t there for this, but my father brought up politics at the breakfast table once recently,” it was a very uncomfortable conversation, and Rantaro had been preparing to slip away, unnoticed, but-- “she shut him  _ down.  _ It was insane. What was she even doing in Spain?”

“Growing up.” Shuichi replies softly. Rantaro feels himself sobering, the laughter fading away. Shuichi notices, of course, and his eyes widen. “Ah-- I only meant--”

“Don’t stress, Shu,” Rantaro shakes his head, reaching over to ruffle his boyfriend’s hair. It’s a mark of how guilty Shuichi feels, that he doesn’t even try to act indignant this time. The look Rantaro receives is sad. “She’s back now, that’s what’s important to me.”

Another text message comes in from Tsubaki, and Rantaro ceases walking to look at it.

_ [You bastard, leaving me on read] _

_ [????? since when do you say bastard] _

_ [I could cuss you out in Spanish if you’d like! :D] _

_ [WHAT WERE EPIFANIA AND CONSUELO TEACHING YOU OVER THERE] _

_ [>:D] _

\---

Mahoko learned to read Italian before she learned to speak it.

Communication got easier, progressively, between her and Diana and Gianpietro, but there wasn’t much actual talking on her part. Really she learned how to understand it first, simply by listening to the two of them speak. It certainly sounded like a love language whenever they spoke to one another. Mahoko had always considered herself to be a pretty good listener. So it wasn’t long before she felt she had a pretty good understanding of what they were saying.

She wanted to have more than a basic understanding of Italian, though. Most times when she walked down the cobblestone streets that wound around the restaurant, she recognised the whisps of conversation that floated past her ears. But if she had wanted to reply to anybody, or strike up a conversation, she couldn’t. It felt like it had been a very long time since she really held a conversation.

So she started reading. She wasn’t used to the roman characters that were used in books. They were certainly worlds different from any type of kana. But when she expressed interest in reading, Diana offered to help, and Mahoko considered herself to be a pretty fast learner.

(Back when she lived in Japan, she hadn’t had as big of an appreciation for reading as she was developing in Venice. That was more Rui’s thing, really. Rui liked listening to people, and she was very quiet, and she always had her nose tucked into a book. They had a lot in common. Mahoko would’ve liked to know her better, maybe. Of course, Rui’s quiet always seemed to come from a place of genuinely wanting to listen to people. Whenever Mahoko was silent, it was usually because she was brooding. At least, that was the way it was in Japan.)

One night, perhaps three years after she was lost, Mahoko stayed up late, tucked in bed with a book. It was a thick adventure novel and she had only started reading it that morning but she hadn’t been able to put it down throughout the day. It was a  _ good book.  _ Diana had good taste in reading.

Creaking footsteps in the hallway outside her door caught her attention after a while, and Mahoko looked up, squinting through the slight opening in the door. Yellow light spilled through from the kitchen. Diana and Gianpietro owned an apartment above the restaurant, but Mahoko thought that light was coming in from their actual kitchen. The one in the apartment. It was getting close to midnight, so she didn’t really understand why anybody would be cooking.

Still, her curiosity was a bit too overpowering. She marked her place in the book and put it to the side, swinging her legs off the side of her bed and slipping out into the hallway. The floorboards, wood, creaked beneath her feet, but she didn’t pay any attention to them. Instead she followed the light until she was standing at the kitchen doorway, peeking inside.

Gianpietro stood at the counter, a large glass bowl in one hand. It appeared to be full of flour. Mahoko watched him mixing for a moment, wondering if she was intruding, but then his gaze flickered up to her, and he smiled. (Or at least, she thought he did; his beard was so large that it was difficult to tell. He had it in a hair net.)

“I’m making noodles,” he explained softly. “I hand make them, so I have to do it early.” He paused, and then added, “Would you like to help me?”

Mahoko pondered the offer for a moment. He wasn’t asking why she was awake, or telling her to go back to sleep. Just asking if she wanted to help him with his noodles. She had never made noodles by hand before. She wondered if people in ramen shops back in Japan did so, or if they just got all their noodles dry. Still, she nodded. Gianpietro offered her another smile and pointed to the sink with his chin.

“Go wash your hands, and we can do the next step together,” he pointed at his bowl. “I’m almost done mixing.”

\---

Venice is, without a doubt, a major tourist city. That was probably the appeal that it had to Rantaro’s father. Most of their vacations doubled as business trips, even if Rantaro doesn’t remember it that way. His dad used to be really good at keeping family and business separate. (Unless someone got lost, and he absolutely had to keep moving forward. But there’s not much to be done about that.)

Shuichi doesn’t say anything, but Rantaro can tell he doesn’t like it much here. It’s absolutely gorgeous. Picturesque. And a bit of a melting pot in a sense, at least when you get closer to the docks, because everyone wants to see the city on water. It’s a staple of European culture. Just like how everyone who goes to Japan has interest in going to Tokyo. If you’re not from a place, you can only recognise it for so many things. Rantaro hopes that he doesn’t have that mindset when he travels. When he’s found all his sisters, he wants to go and see the parts of the world that he hasn’t yet. He hasn’t ever been to South Africa, for example. (There’s no need to go to that continent at all; none of his sisters were lost there, but even so.)

It’s strange to think about a time in his life when he’ll have found all his sisters. He hasn’t even found very many of them, just four. Who’s to say he’ll ever find Kikuko, knowing the position that she’s in now? The thought makes his stomach twist and he shoves it to the side. He’ll think about it later, tonight even, under the covers where he doesn’t have anything more productive to be thinking about.

He should try to focus on Mahoko. She’s the reason they’re here. Rantaro feels guilty for getting distracted so much. She should be his priority right now, if he has any hope at all of finding her.

Shuichi is correct, of course; they should check the restaurant. In all the years since Mahoko got lost, Rantaro hasn’t thought to go back there even once. Maybe the idea that she might’ve gone back herself simply never crossed his mind. It’s doubtful that she’s still in the area after all of this time, but she’s twenty, now. If she’s still in Italy, then that means she’s had plenty of time to stop by, at the very least. And she probably would’ve, at one point. If only to see where everything went wrong.

(Why did she leave the restaurant? That’s what Rantaro doesn’t understand. Mahoko was always so impossible to read. Not because she was quiet. It always felt like she was wearing some kind of mask. What reason would she have had to just take off like that?)

At the very least, by going to the restaurant, they can get some kind of lead.

“Hey, Shu,” Rantaro stops walking, and Shuichi does too, turning his head and raising his eyebrows. Rantaro knows vaguely where they are, about half a mile away from the restaurant where he and Mahoko were separated. He could probably find his way there pretty easily. Venice isn’t difficult for him to navigate. “Are you hungry?”

“I ate some trail mix on the boat, but yes,” Shuichi nods, shooting him a quick smile. “Why?”

“Figured we could kill two birds with one stone and grab a late lunch at the restaurant,” Rantaro explains lightly. Shuichi raises his eyebrows but nods again, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

“Alright,” and then he adds, “lead the way, then,” so Rantaro tugs on his arm and they turn around, following the stones to the restaurant.

\---

Mahoko kicked her legs off the side of the dock, swinging them back and forth and watching the sunset. The water was cleaner over here, since she wasn’t at the Marina. Fish swam between her bare toes, and she felt the tickle of kelp against her heels as well. It was a lovely, cool sensation. She smiled down at her feet, relishing the cold feeling of the water paired with the warm light from the setting sun. Sunsets were gorgeous in Venice because there was so much water. And the salty air made everything feel clearer.

Next to her, Diana sat with a sketchbook. There were little bits of paint on her nose and cheek, but she paid no mind to them, looking up and down between her page and the sunset before her, working quickly to capture it. Diana called painting a hobby more than it was a passion; running the restaurant was her passion. And Mahoko could tell from the way she did it. The bright look in her eyes when she greeted customers, even annoying American tourists. The cheerful way she did paperwork, spoke to food critics. Diana was passionate about her field of work.

It was difficult not to be, Mahoko supposed. Diana and Gianpietro were both the type of people to make things exciting. (Mahoko was getting pretty good at cooking, after helping Gianpietro in the kitchen for the past three years or so. She liked making things, especially making them taste good. And she liked seeing people smile after experiencing something that  _ she  _ created.) Still, Diana was an excellent painter. Perhaps she just had a natural talent for it.

“Diana,” Mahoko spoke quietly, but Diana still heard her. She had a sharp year. It probably came with being married to Gianpietro. “Have you always wanted to own a restaurant?”

  
“No,” Diana shook her head. Added a streak of white to her painting. Mahoko watched her callused hands as she smeared the paint. “For the longest time, when I was younger, my only ambition was to be a mother.” Her smile became sad. Mahoko didn’t quite understand the implications of what she was saying, but she got the feeling that Diana’s sorrow was more than surface-level.

“What changed?”

“Nothing did,” Diana shrugged. “It was still my desire when I settled down with Gianpietro. Things don’t always work out in the way we want them to, you see.” She tapped the end of her paintbrush against the corner of her page. “I’m sterile, Mahoko. I’m not able to bear children.”

She said it lightly, but… Mahoko processed the words. There was a term for that in Japanese as well, but she had a very meager understanding of it back when she was ten. Occasionally the books she read would touch on it, but she never quite… grasped the reality of it. She couldn’t help looking over at Diana, who was focusing on her painting, taking in the creases in her face, the light sadness in her eyes. Mahoko felt her stomach turning over.

(Diana, Mahoko thought, would never have allowed a single one of her children to get lost in another country, if she had been able to have them. Even Mahoko’s own mother sat to the side and allowed Amami to keep plowing on. She closed her hands into fists. It wasn’t fair that Amami got to have so many children and Diana got to have none.)

“I ought to get you a journal,” Diana remarked with a smile. Mahoko looked up at her, startled. “There must be worlds contained in that head of yours, for how little you say what’s on your mind.” She paused. “You don’t have to feel bad for me, Mahoko. I’m happy with my life the way it is now. I have a wonderful husband, and you’re not such a bad addition either, you should know,” she hummed. Mahoko had told her, of course, what happened the day she got lost. It took a while, but she  _ did  _ open up to Diana and Gianpietro eventually. She lost any desire to keep it to herself before long. None of them spoke about it, but… Mahoko was pretty sure that they were both in agreement with her, that her family wouldn’t be coming back to get her.

(And secretly, deep in her soul, Mahoko decided that she wouldn’t mind that all that much. Staying here with Diana and Gianpietro forever. Her silence was acknowledged and appreciated here, with them. She felt seen. Back with her family in Japan… she might as well have been invisible. And not in the way that Rui was. Mahoko wanted to disappear into the walls at times. The issue was that her family allowed her to. She had never felt quite so… real, before.)

\---

The restaurant is as Rantaro remembers it being. Tall, made of red bricks, white embellishments. There is an apartment above it, presumably where that kind hostess and her husband live. When Rantaro stops, Shuichi stops too, tilting his head back to look at it.

“This is the place?” Shuichi asks. Rantaro nods. The smell of garlic is wafting from the inside. Rantaro remembers the restaurant as having been completely empty when he and Mahoko entered, but it’s around four in the afternoon, so it makes sense that they’d have more business now, if it’s primarily a dinner restaurant. Just as it was ten years ago, the atmosphere of the place is inviting. Warm. Rantaro remembers choosing it for exactly that reason. He thought the owners might be nice enough to let them use the bathroom without being paying customers. Hopefully now, when he and Shuichi go in to ask about Mahoko, he’ll be able to return the favour.

Just as Rantaro remembers, the bell on the door is brass. Lower in pitch. There’s a tiny white ribbon tied to it. He smiles up at it as he walks inside.

Today, the restaurant is bustling. There are empty tables, but plenty of them are full, and the smell of food is pleasant but nearly overpowering. Rantaro hears tons of voices, laughing, conversing brightly in Italian. He glances at Shuichi to gauge his reaction, and predictably Shuichi looks just the slightest bit out of his element, but there’s still a smile on his face. He nods towards the hostess, a woman perhaps in her forties with curly salt and pepper hair. She’s facing away from them, but she calls out over her shoulder in Italian.

  
“Just a moment,” her voice is warm. Friendly. Rantaro can hear the smile in it, and it sounds genuine. A bit of the anxiety in his stomach recedes at the sound of her kindness. She’ll probably be more than willing to help. The hostess turns around, a stack of menus held on her forearm. “How many?” The words have left her mouth by the time she looks up, but when she meets Rantaro’s gaze (her eyes are hazel, he notices; he’s taller now than he was when he came here ten years ago, so he’s actually in the position where he can see them, today) recognition flashes over her features.

“Two,” Rantaro replies quickly, in Italian as well. He squeezes Shuichi’s hand and lets go, stepping forward with a small smile. “I was wondering if you could help me?”

The hostess gives him a strange look but smiles after a moment. Her eyes are soft. “Just a moment,” she says quietly. With that she turns around, cupping her mouth with one hand, and calls, “Mahoko! Come out here!”

\---

“You write a lot in that thing!” Sofia remarked. Mahoko glanced up at her and raised her eyebrows.

Sofia was a newer employee, around Mahoko’s age and hired as a waitress. She was nice, just very talkative, and she tired Mahoko out to no end. Still, she had a point; Mahoko wrote a  _ lot  _ in her journal. She had been skeptical about it at first, since she had never been much of a writer, despite not being much of a talker, either, but it’s helped her in years past to have somewhere to put her emotions so that they don’t take control of her. She found that her anxiety was more manageable when she wasn’t bottling it all up. Having an outlet was nice.

“Does your hand ever get cramped? Whenever I write for long periods of time, yeouch,” she shook out her hand as though to demonstrate. Mahoko cracked a smile, putting her pen to the side, as it was probably rude to ignore Sofia while she was talking. “That’s why I usually write on computer! When I have to, that is-- college and all, y’know? I’m not really so big on creative writing. I can barely even talk!” She let out a nervous laugh.

Mahoko wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. Sofia was weird. She had a nice voice, even though she used it so much. Silky. She was probably a good singer. Her hair was dark, and her skin was olive, which made the bright green flecks in her brown eyes stick out like crazy. Sofia leaned against her broomstick, as though still waiting for Mahoko to respond. As much as she spoke, she probably wasn’t very good at carrying out conversations with herself. Mahoko wondered if it would help her to say a couple words, just to get her going again.

Before she could do so, however, Sofia spoke again. “You’re the boss’ daughter, right? Or something like that?” What a strange question. Mahoko found that she wasn’t all that offended though.

“Or something,” she said quietly. Sofia beamed, as though happy to have heard her speak. Mahoko looked away, uncertain as to why her cheeks were burning. Sofia needed to brush her teeth less, or something. Maybe get into a car accident and lose a couple. They were seriously distracting when she smiled like that, toothy and wide.

“She talks about you a lot! I mean, on accident, probably-- she’s super businesslike! But you come up from time to time,” Sofia was still smiling, as though coasting off her victory. “It’s nice having someone who cares about you a lot! My dad was like that too-- I mean, waaay too clingy. Always so worried about where I was at night. My curfew was seven! Unbelievable. I was the lame kid back in high school.”

Mahoko thought,  _ I wish my step father had cared half as much,  _ but realised the thought wasn’t all that bitter. At least, not towards Sofia. Perhaps the genuine concern Gianpietro and Diana showed whenever she was even a little bit sad had killed the negative feelings she held towards Amami. It was mostly only numbness by then.

“Sorry, I know I talk a lot,” Sofia’s expression was apologetic. “There’s not a lot to do in the afternoons, not until like, four. You guys should open a breakfast joint or something!”

Somehow, Mahoko found herself laughing at that. “I’m not sure whether that’s within Gianpietro’s purview, he seems perfectly happy focusing on lunch and dinner,” she paused, and then said, “But if you want to pass the time, you could… read some of my journal, if you wanted.”

The offer came out of nowhere, even to her. That seemed vaguely reminiscent of giving Sofia permission to read her  _ brain.  _ But she didn’t mind the idea of it, really. There wasn’t anything gross in there, just… things she had never told anybody else. Sofia seemed to think it was a big deal though. “Really?” She asked, incredulous. “You’d let me read-- whatever you’ve been writing in there?”

“Not if you word it like that,” Mahoko said, wrinkling her nose. “But sure. It’s something to do.” She shrugged.

(And then tried not to act pleased by the flattered happiness that appeared on Sofia’s face.)

\---

Rantaro vaguely registers Shuichi’s hand, resting itself on his shoulder to keep him steady as Mahoko steps out from the back room. Her curly hair is tied in a high ponytail, and her arms and hands are covered in flour. She’s wearing a smile on her face, opening her mouth to say something, but the expression freezes when she sees Rantaro. Something that he can’t read flickers in her dark brown eyes.

(He’s never been able to read her.)

Still, Mahoko’s lips spread into a shaky smile, and she weaves her way over. The hostess touches her shoulder but disappears into the kitchen, leaving the two of them (plus Shuichi) standing alone next to the door.

After a moment, Rantaro finds it in himself to break the silence. “Hey.”

Mahoko lets out a laugh, wiping one of her eyes with the back of her wrist. “Hi, Rantaro,” she says quietly. She looks at him for a very long moment. There’s a smear of flour across her cheek bone now. “I wasn’t… expecting you to come back.”

Rantaro frowns. Had he started his search when Mahoko got lost? He supposed he only started looking  _ after  _ they returned from their trip to Europe. Mahoko had been the last straw. There’d really be no way for her to know he was coming back. Just like Aki hadn’t, had thought she blew her chances by not going to the police. “Uh,” Rantaro bites his lip. “Surprise?”

Laughing again, Mahoko nods her head. She doesn’t say anything, which is characteristic of her, and instead leans forward to hug him, tucking her arms around her shoulders, which isn’t. Rantaro takes a step back to brace himself, but leans in to hug her back. She smells like flour. He wonders why she’s shaking so hard in his arms.

\---

(And Mahoko tried to shut it out, that voice that was telling her she didn’t want to go back to Japan, because if Rantaro had come back for her that meant it was time for her to leave. She knew that. Had always known that if someone came back, she would be going. She had never been able to put her foot down.)

(But still, for some reason it was insanely difficult to shut it out. Build up a brick wall between her words and those thoughts. She couldn’t ignore it.)

(She didn’t want to go to Japan.)   
  
(She didn’t want to leave Diana and Gianpietro.)

(She hadn’t even kissed Sofia yet.)

(She couldn’t just say no, though.)

\---

Over dinner, Mahoko says that she needs the night to pack her bags, get ready to leave and all that.

By the way that she avoids looking him in the eyes throughout the meal, though, Rantaro thinks that there’s a bit more to it than that. He can’t just ignore the tightness in her smile as she finishes her plate, the softness in her eyes when she speaks to the hostess. (Diana, is her name.)

Still, before he can even work up the courage to ask he what the problem is, she’s smiling and telling him that she’ll be ready to go home tomorrow. Reaching across the table to squeeze his hands. And after saying that she turns and disappears down the hallway, presumably heading up to the apartment above the restaurant, and there’s nothing really Rantaro can do other than to thank Diana and follow Shuichi out onto the street.

They walk in silence for a while. Shuichi is probably waiting for him to break it.

“I don’t think she wants to come home with me,” Rantaro says finally. He fees Shuichi’s gaze, sliding over and landing on him, but doesn’t meet his eyes. Keeps his own fixed on the horizon. The sun has begun to set. “She seemed… I don’t know. Disappointed.”

“Mahoko doesn’t talk a lot, does she?” Shuichi asks quietly.

“She was always soft spoken,” Rantaro begins, though he thinks he knows what Shuichi is trying to say.

“I mean, she keeps a lot of things to herself. There was a time in the meal when a waiter stepped on her foot-- likely an accident, but still, it had to have hurt. Mahoko just blinked and kept smiling. It takes a lot of composure to be able to do such a thing. But I also don’t think she shares how she’s really feeling a lot.” Shuichi reaches over and laces their fingers together again, giving a soft squeeze. Rantaro is a bit surprised, admittedly, that Shuichi picked up on what was clearly such a quick exchange. But it’s to be expected from such a good detective. “It’s possible that there’s something else going on, and you read her distractedness as hesitation. I think if she didn’t want you to know how she feels, you wouldn’t.” He pauses. “But you should talk to her. It wouldn’t bother you if she wanted to stay here, would it?”

“Of course not,” Rantaro says, a bit more intensely than he means to. Shuichi shoots him a wry smile. “I’m-- sorry, you weren’t accusing me.”

“It’s alright,” Shuichi replies lightly. “I understand why you’d be passionate about it. You value your sister’s comfort over the idea of taking her back to Japan with you. You’re still in regular contact with Kasumi, aren’t you?”   
  
She periodically sends him pictures of the fat dog she named after him. Rantaro smiles to himself, but doesn’t say anything, and Shuichi seems to get the message regardless. He gives Rantaro’s hand a squeeze.

“Tomorrow when we go back, just ask her if she really wants to come with you. I’m sure she’ll be surprised enough by your consideration that even if she does want to come back to Japan, she’ll tell you what’s wrong.”

“Thanks, Shu,” Rantaro lets out a laugh, feels the fluttery sensation of relief in his stomach. “You’re great with advice.”

“I learned from the best,” Shuichi says in return, pressing a whisper of a kiss to Rantaro’s knuckle.

\---

Mahoko wasn’t sure what to pack. All the things she had were given to her by Diana and Gianpietro. She found herself getting distracted more than once, looking at the painting Diana did of her, or the hand-made dry pasta necklace Gianpietro wordlessly gave her one day because she had a stomachache. There are so many books that Diana recommended, movies they watched together. There’s a charm bracelet from Sofia, polaroid pictures from the music festival she went to with a couple school friends, Miriam and Gaia… Mahoko bites her lip, shoving all of these things into the suitcase they gave her.

For some reason, when she pulls out one of her old journals, she finds herself ceasing the packing process entirely, leaning against her bed and opening the book to a random page.

_ “I miss Tokyo sometimes. There was something very different about nighttime there. Everything was always so bright. Pinks and greens everywhere. I think I prefer nighttime in Venice more, though. There’s a tranquility to it. It’s nice, I suppose. Besides, Amami could never have taught me how to hand make bowtie pasta!” _

She had sketched a little bowtie noodle at the end of that entry. Mahoko felt her stomach twisting with dread. The thought of seeing them all again wasn’t that bad, she supposed, but the idea of going away and then never coming back… she kind of wanted to throw up. She tossed the journal to the side and grabbed another one.

_ “God, Sofia talks too much. I wonder if she does it because she’s anxious, though? She sounds anxious a lot of the time. It’s weird; I never knew anxiety could make people talk more. When I’m anxious my throat closes up, and I can’t say anything at all. I suppose it’s endearing. You’d be hard pressed to find something about Sofia that isn’t endearing, though.” _

_ “Gaia got a polaroid and insisted on taking pictures of me with it. They developed immediately and I saw with my own two eyes how awful my acne is today. She’s the worst.” _

_ “I wonder what my dad has been doing. I haven’t thought about him in so long.” _

Mahoko closed the journal when she realised tears were dripping down her cheeks. Her immediate instinct was to wipe them away and keep packing, but… for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to. She threw this journal across the room with a loud thump and covered her mouth with her hands, trying not to sob audibly. She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay in Italy and keep working in the kitchen with Gianpietro. Back with the Amamis, even when they were traveling, she never felt like she was a part of a family. She felt so happy here. She didn’t want that to end.

(And she didn’t want to leave Diana and Gianpietro.)

Her bedroom door opened, carefully, slowly, and when Diana stuck her face in, Mahoko didn’t even bother trying to hide the fact that she was crying. Diana was not unfamiliar with her tears, she supposed. It was hardly a surprise to anybody when Diana rushed forward and took her into her arms.

\---

Shuichi has never been much of an early riser. They’ve had to get up absurdly early the past couple days to hike. So it’s really not a surprise when he groans and rolls over when Rantaro tries to wake him up this morning.

It’s fine, he supposes. He’s perfectly capable of going to the restaurant and talking to Mahoko by himself. He leaves a note anyway, in case Shuichi doesn’t remember this conversation when he wakes up and gets worried. Hopefully, he’ll be back within the next couple of hours, Mahoko with him or not.

The restaurant is closed this early, but since they made arrangements yesterday, Mahoko is standing outside of the restaurant, wearing a large brown sweater over a darker brown skirt and a white shirt. Her hair is in a ponytail again, likely the quickest style for her to put it into. There is a suitcase at her side, but she’s leaning against the restaurant with her arms wrapped around herself. Not holding it.

“Did the people who hosted you want to come out and say goodbye?” Rantaro asks as he stops in front of her, frowning. The smile that formed on Mahoko’s face when she saw him disappears. She averts her gaze.

  
“We said bye already,” she murmurs. Her voice is hoarse. Rantaro looks at her for a long moment. Shuichi brought up the possibility that he might be misreading the situation, but…

Rantaro recalls the trip they took to London. How they had several days planned out for the days that were supposed to follow Rui getting lost. Hikaru threw a fit and accused their father of not caring about any of them, so they didn’t end up continuing the trip once they knew for sure that they weren’t going to be finding Rui anywhere. But it was Mahoko’s quiet sulkiness that stuck in his memory. The way she stared down at the ground, her lips pursed together in a thin line, and said nothing the whole time they argued. When their father turned around, Rantaro swore he saw a flash of red-hot anger in Mahoko’s eyes before she turned her head away too.

He’s not sure why, as Mahoko pushes herself off the wall, grabbing her suitcase, this memory comes back to him in high definition. Mahoko has… never verbalised her feelings. Not in the whole time that her mother was married to his father. Koharu, her older sister, quietly admitted to Rantaro once that Mahoko never liked their father. Never considered him to be her father at all. Always missed the man who actually sired her. But she never told anybody about it. Koharu only knew because she knew Mahoko.

He had a whole big speech planned, but instead what comes out of his mouth as she starts to walk is, “Mahoko, do you want to stay in Italy?”

Surprise flashes over her features, but not offense. Rantaro is certain that he’s being received with genuine surprise. “What?”

“You,” he clears his throat, “don’t really seem like you want to come back to Japan with me.”

Mahoko regards him warily. Her knuckles turn white on the handle of her suitcase. Her breaths are shallow, and she doesn’t say anything. Just stares at him.

“Uhm, Kasumi decided to stay in Paris too, if it’s any consolation,” Rantaro rubs the back of his neck. “We found her a couple years ago. She loved Paris.” He shrugs. “Go figure, it’s the City of Love, y’know?” A stupid joke for a serious conversation, but Rantaro can’t help it. Mahoko’s silence makes him feel uneasy. “Anyway, we keep in touch, y’know? The goal was to find you, of course, but if you’d rather stay in Italy, then I--”

“You’re really okay with that?” Mahoko blurts. Her brow is furrowed, like she can’t figure something out. “With me staying here? Is that-- Is that really okay?”

“Kasumi and Miss Hamada will want to see you,” Rantaro shrugs. “Probably Tsubaki, Aki, and Mina, too-- and everyone else once I’ve found them,” he squeezes the back of his neck, using the pressure to focus on what he’s saying so he can communicate effectively. He meets Mahoko’s eyes. “But yeah, of course I’m fine with it. I want you to be happy, and if you’re happy here, then it’s where you should be. I want to be in your life, but even if you wanted me out of it completely, that’d be your call.” Mahoko bites her lip, but Rantaro doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, so he speaks again. “You’re an adult, y’know? You have-- agency.”   
  


For a long moment, Mahoko doesn’t say anything. She just stares at him. But then her eyes well with tears, and before Rantaro can respond, she throws herself into his chest, hugging him tight-- for real this time, he supposes.

“You don’t need to cry,” Rantaro says quietly, cupping the back of her head with a hand.

Mahoko’s voice is muffled against his jacket. “I want to stay,” she tells him. “God, I want to see everyone again, but I want to-- I want to live in Italy, I don’t want to leave, not permanently, I--” she chokes on a breath as she sucks it in.

“Hey, easy, easy,” Rantaro urges, alarmed. “You’re going to hyperventilate if you--”

A laugh cuts him off as Mahoko pulls back, and Rantaro bites the inside of his cheek. It’s been so long since he’s seen her smiling. Truly smiling, despite the tears that are streaking her face. “Can I take you inside? To talk to Diana and Gianpietro for real?” She asks quickly. It’s perhaps the most he’s ever heard her talk before. “Sofia, too, though she might be coming in later… are you and your boyfriend leaving today? Because I--”

“I’ll stay,” Rantaro interrupts, reaching out to envelop one of her hands with his. “For as long as you want me to.”

\---

Alright, Mahoko will admit it: Maybe there was a teensy tiny upside to speaking her mind. Just a little bit.

She wasn’t sure where all that desperation came from. When she thought that she was going to be leaving, she… kind of lost her head. (Maybe her period was coming up.) Still, though, she wasn’t expecting Rantaro to see through her like she did. She thought she’d built up her walls stronger than that.

Then again, Diana and Gianpietro and Sofia had been tearing at those walls for years. And Rantaro had always been a good older brother. Maybe it was time that she stopped thinking so much, and started talking instead.

(The journals could stay, though. Because Sofia liked them. And for dozens of reasons, Mahoko was insistent, but… admittedly, Sofia was one of the biggest ones.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asdjflksjdfj i started this chapter on january 27th but then femslash february happened... i've been busy y'all but here it is, the update
> 
> i love!!! mahoko!!! she's babey and that's that oop
> 
> can't believe i impulsively gave mahoko a gf at the last minute... it's ok we all want an overly talkative gf y'know??? sofia is lesbian goalz
> 
> shoutout to chibigaia for being named gaia and also being italian. the brief mention of a gal named gaia is for u and also bc i google searched italian names and found gaia on the list and went "oh hey" (my name is athena,, u know,,,, goddess squad)
> 
> i'm vibing y'all i'm kinda proud of this chapter even though it's seventeen thousand words oop my goal of not getting over 20k seems downright unrealistic with how complicated these stories are
> 
> (because you guessed right!!! they only get worse!!!!!)
> 
> thanks to the people who are reading this monster of a fic i cannot believe how much effort it's taking me to get this down
> 
> oh i almost forgot to address the kikuko thing,,,lmao


	6. Maemi Nakamura Amami

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things start to get more intense with this chapter forward. tread with caution.
> 
> tw: kidnapping, guns, threats of violence, all around unhappy vibes.

Mexico City was crowded. No more crowded than Tokyo-- in fact, Maemi might have even said that it paled in comparison to her home city-- but after stopping by a few small towns on their way, the thick congregations of people speaking a language that Maemi couldn’t understand seemed to stick out more.

It was exhilarating. The architecture was so much different than she was used to, and the people looked different too; wearing different kinds of clothes and hurrying along in different ways than she saw in Tokyo. It was like stepping into another universe, an experience she’d shared over the course of many of their trips, and Maemi could feel her heart pounding through her chest with excitement. Since Mexico City was the capital, it was something of a tourist trap. Not that Maemi hadn’t ever seen Americans before, but it was strange being so close to them, in a place that was actually connected to their own country.

She liked the people who actually lived in Mexico more, though. It would have been something of a generalisation to say that they were kinder, but they moved with order and rhythm, familiarity of a sort. It was brilliant to watch. Maemi had something of a fascination with foreign places in the people in them. It was fun to see new things and go new places! She had already seen so much of Japan, she wanted to go other places!

Fortunately for Maemi, they traveled a lot. (At least, since her mother got remarried… she didn’t remember her biological father much but he wasn’t a good person. She still had the baseball cap he gave her for her third birthday tucked into a box underneath her bed back in Japan.) She’d gotten to see a lot of places, and it was really exciting! The only downside was that they all had to stay together in a really big group. That was kind of annoying. Maemi was only eight, but she had a good sense of direction. One night she snuck out of the house and wandered around the neighbourhood. It was like the turns were highlighting themselves to her. She knew exactly where she was going, even though she had never been there before, and when she wanted to go back home, all she had to do was walk that way. Her family was so boring, they only went to the tourist destinations, the highly populated places.

(Rantaro used to go off the trail a bit, but since Kikuko got lost he sort of reigned in those tendencies. It made Maemi sad but she couldn’t blame him; she knew on some level, even at eight years old, that Rantaro blamed himself for what happened to Kikuko. Maemi thought in her heart that Kikuko was okay, though. She would’ve known instinctively if something awful  _ had  _ happened to her, she knew it.)

But as much as Maemi wanted to sneak off by herself, she was trying to repress the urges. Not necessarily because she thought she would get lost, but because their family… didn’t have a very good track record. They stopped in Japan before coming to Mexico, of course, but before that they were in London, and… Maemi kept running over that trip over and over again in her head, trying to figure out how Rui could have possibly gotten lost. Rui? Quiet, observant Rui? She had the air of the type of person who would stick around for a very long time and the fact that she was gone left Maemi off-kilter.

There were so many  _ interesting  _ things, though. They walked through a street market and Maemi had to restrain herself from running off and checking things out. If she asked her mother, she’d probably just be allowed to take a buddy and head over, but… oh, that kind of took the fun out of exploring! Back before Rantaro became something of a doormat (not to be mean to Rantaro, it just made Maemi sad because he used to have so much energy) he probably would’ve understood how she felt. He never said it outright but they could all tell-- or at least, Maemi could-- how annoyed he was with Kikuko hanging off his leg all the time. It was like that! She loved her sisters, and Tsubaki, who her mom would probably send along with her since Tsubaki was her real big sister, but she just… wanted to do her own thing.

She kind of owed it to her step-father to stay in line, though, and Miss Hagiwara. They were so sad with Aki and Rui and Kikuko missing. Poor Mister Amami, for real-- he only had Rantaro and Mina left. Maemi didn’t like thinking about it. Secretly, though, when she got older, she wanted to go and find her missing sisters, all three of them. She knew Rantaro wanted to go too, so maybe he’d let her come along. She was only four years younger than him! Sure, she was technically one of the youngest, but Satsuki was such an obvious baby, Maemi’s age would probably be overlooked! Besides,  _ she  _ wasn’t going to get lost.

As they were about to leave the street market, Satsuki pulled on Miss Akamine’s sleeve, saying something about ice cream. There was a vendor some yards away, and when Miss Akamine approached Mister Amami, he smiled and nodded. Maemi didn’t care much for ice cream-- like, yum, y’know, but she had to be in the mood-- and was mostly uninterested, but as they walked over, they passed an alleyway, and Maemi paused.

It wasn’t the alleyway itself that interested her. (Maemi had seen enough movies to know that alleyways were more sketchy and dangerous than they were particularly  _ interesting.)  _ But as they passed, the early-autumn sun caught on something shiny, and it glowed almost silvery. Maemi was intrigued, gazing over at it. She glanced over at her family-- they were busy getting ice cream, completely distracted. If Rui was there, maybe she’d have noticed Maemi’s interest, but Rui was… still in London, probably. The thought made Maemi sad. She looked back over at the alleyway. It wouldn’t hurt, she’d just run over and see what it is and then run right back.

With that thought at the forefront of her mind, Maemi split off, ducking under an arm of the crowd and into the alley. It smelled musty and abandoned, and since there were only a few tendrils of sunlight reaching in through the tall buildings, it was mostly very dark. Maemi shivered, wishing she was wearing something thicker than a sweatshirt.

The silvery thing was, it seemed, a piece of currency. She didn’t think it was peso, though, because it was solid silver, and very smooth beneath her fingers. There was the head of a man on one side, his profile, and a building that she might’ve seen in a news clip on the other. Probably an American coin. Maemi pocketed it, but couldn’t help feeling somewhat disappointed. She was hoping it would be something more interesting, something with history-- more likely, some tourist dropped it while taking a shortcut through the alley. Lame.

Maemi turned to leave.

Without any warning, as she turned around, her shoulder bumped into something that wasn’t there before. Maemi turned her head to the side, but a large hand clamped down over her mouth, and another around her wrist, restricting her movement. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart spasmed; the person (?) lifted her off the ground slightly and she kicked back, trying to scream, but to no avail, since her mouth was covered. She was effectively being held against their chest, a hand over her mouth and nose, and she could hardly breathe. Her vision was starting to swim.

Her wrist was released, but before she could register her relative freedom, there was a sharp pinch at the back of her neck, and everything went dark.

\---

Shuichi bites his lip. He really needs to just knock on the door. He has no real reason to be getting anxious about doing this, since in the first place,  _ he  _ was the one who offered to do it.

The Amami mansion hasn’t gotten any less impressive throughout all of Shuichi’s visits. Not that he’s visited a large amount of times; there were a few visits in high school, and then he went once after finding Mina to help Rantaro pack, and since finding Tsubaki and Aki and the others, there have been some scattered visits, but for the most part, he’s kind of stuck to his apartment and his uncle’s office, whenever he’s been in Japan. Rantaro doesn’t live with his parents anymore, so there’s no real reason to come visit, unless it’s to hang out with his sisters-- which, admittedly, they do a fair amount.

Anyway, the magnificence of the place really isn’t helping his nerves as to this whole ordeal. It’s not like, a  _ big  _ deal-- he’s just here to ask for any pictures that they might have of Kikuko, aside from the ones present in Rantaro’s album. She got lost when she was six, so the likelihood of there being a bunch of pictures of her is… slim, but Rantaro thought it was worth asking. And it would be Rantaro here right now, but Kokichi and Kiibo broke up recently and Rantaro headed over to help Miu repair the damages.

(It makes Shuichi sad to hear-- it’s not that high school relationships are to last forever, of course, he knew that. Angie, Tenko, and Himiko split a while back as well, and Kaito and Maki have always had a shaky relationship. It’s been six years since they all graduated and things are bound to change. It’s just that he and Rantaro have been together for so long, it feels like the world is changing around them-- almost leaving them behind, in a way. It’s been nearly ten years since Shuichi joined Rantaro in his search for his sisters. Not that he’s getting tired of it, or that he’d ever quit, but… Shuichi has never liked change. It always seems to come out of nowhere and blindside him, no matter how much warning there is leading up to it.)

They should’ve come by for the pictures two  _ years  _ ago, when they put together that Kikuko is the Chrysanthemum Killer in the first place. It’s just that there’s been so much to do in the time that’s passed since then. Research, working with Mukuro and Kyoko, additional digging that definitely wasn’t sanctioned by Mukuro and Kyoko… they’ve been down to Africa four times in the past several months on reported cases. Rantaro has contacts all over the place who he’s been asking to keep him posted on the case. Shuichi has gotten  _ so  _ many shots, he’s pretty sure he’s more vaccine than blood by now.

Not the point. He’s wasting time and he’s been standing on the Amami’s doorstep for seven minutes now. Any longer and they’ll think he’s loitering. Shuichi takes a deep breath and reaches up to ring the bell.  _ Chill out,  _ he chides himself.  _ Maybe Amami won’t answer the door, maybe it’ll be Miss Hamada.  _ He likes Miss Hamada. Miss Hamada is a very nice, very stress-free kind of person. And she likes Agatha Christie, which is a bonus, in Shuichi’s books.

It’s not that he’s afraid of his boyfriend’s dad, because that would be absurd. It’s just that he’s really tall and unlike Rantaro none of his smiles reach his eyes and he has this distant, businessman type feeling, and he’s never been critical of Shuichi and Rantaro’s relationship, or anything, but the fact remains that Shuichi kind of sort of yelled at him the first time they met, over a formal, fancy dinner, so-- not a great track record, frankly. Besides all of that, Rantaro is usually around as a buffer whenever they have to interact, and this’ll be the first time that Shuichi is seeing him without some kind of a guard, so he’s admittedly stressed out about it.

His uncle chuckled when he expressed his concerns over brunch earlier today, shaking his head. “If you want to marry Rantaro, and I hope you do because he seems like an excellent nephew-in-law,” (at which point Shuichi protested loudly, _Uncle Akifumi, stop, _but alas), “You’re going to have to get over your fear of Ichirou. He’s not a bad man, Shuichi. Just, y’know. Wealthy. The rich are always like that.”

“You’re on a first-name-basis with him,” Shuichi had grumbled. “You don’t get to talk.”

“Well, you might be on a first-name-basis with him now, too, if you were less formal,” Akifumi smiled. “Maybe try telling him a couple puns, that always works with me.”

Not. Happening. Shuichi loves his uncle, but his advise isn’t very good when he needs it the most. Whatever, though. The conversation reassured him a little bit regardless, in the way that his uncle always manages to do without seeming to try. There’s no point stressing out about it now, since he’s already rung the doorbell, so--

Just as this thought pops into Shuichi’s head, the door opens, and he meets a pair of evergreen eyes.  _ Not  _ the green belonging to the elder Amami, but to Jack, the fiance of Rantaro’s oldest younger sister. He raises his eyebrows but smiles, opening the door wider. “Shuichi!” he greets, and Shuichi finds himself relaxing, allowing a smile. Jack is only a year younger than Shuichi is, and it makes things less awkward in interaction. Mahoko, back in Italy, has a girlfriend named Sofie, and the three-year age gap used to be kind of weird. Now that they’re both decently over twenty, though, it’s alright. “What’s up?” The way he speaks Japanese is sometimes funny, since he’s American, but it’s impressive that he manages to speak as well as he does, having learned the language from a girl his age, so it’s alright.

“Ah, not a lot, uhm,” Shuichi rubs the back of his neck; a habit he sort of picked up from Rantaro, come to think of it. “I was wondering-- well, I suppose you’re not the best to ask, are you and Aki here visiting?”

“Yeah, just for a couple days,” Jack and Aki live far up north, in Aoimori, so Shuichi doesn’t see them around a lot. Aki sends him news articles about cold cases in her region on occasion though, accompanied by eye emojis, and it always makes him smile. He’s solved a couple of the ones that she’s sent, but it’s not necessarily a priority at all times. Maybe once they’ve found everybody, he can go about solving every cold case he comes across. That would be nice. “Here, come in, Aki’s upstairs taking a shower-- she didn’t get up until about half an hour ago, can you believe it?”

“God, I wish that were me,” Shuichi sighs, and Jack laughs, closing the door behind Shuichi as he steps in. Thankfully, Shuichi is at the level of relationship with the Amami family now that he has his own pair of indoor shoes, so he doesn’t have to stress out taking off his sneakers and stepping into them. Jack is dressed in real clothing, jeans and a t-shirt, and when Shuichi moves in further he notes the smell of eggs wafting from the kitchen. “Are you cooking, or is that Hiroko?” (Hiroko is the chef hired by the Amami family, and also something of a wizard in the kitchen. Both Shuichi and Rantaro can cook decently well, but Hiroko makes them both seem like losers. Which is fair, considering that Hiroko is a professional chef.)

“I just finished up,” Jack grins. “I’m just thankful Hiroko trusts me enough to let me in her kitchen. Aki can’t cook for shit and I think that made a poor impression on her last time we visited,” he clears his throat. “Anyway, what did you need? I think Miss Nakamura is home, as well as Aki’s dad-- uh, but, he scares me a little so when it comes to grabbing someone I think that Miss Nakamura is probably your best bet…”

“Miss Nakamura is fine, I was wondering if there are any photographs lying around of Kikuko. Aki and Rantaro’s youngest sister,” Shuichi specifies, and Jack nods. He has a good memory, so he probably has a pretty good handle on all twelve of Rantaro’s sisters, by now, and Shuichi didn’t really need to clarify. He tries to be courteous, though.

“Sit tight for a second-- are you hungry, by the way? I think I made too much food for all the people in the house right now…” Jack moves towards the stairs, and so Shuichi makes his way towards the sitting room, but not before giving Jack a response.

“I’m alright, thank you,” he offers a smile. “I just had brunch with my uncle.”

Jack flashes him a thumbs up as he disappears upstairs. Nice guy. He’s been working with JAXA a lot recently, and also Kaito, because when Shuichi learned that Jack wanted to become an astronaut Kaito was where his mind first went, and it seems like he’s picking up on a couple of Kaito’s mannerisms. Jack definitely isn’t the same reserved twenty-year-old he met in New York City three years ago. It’s nice, though, to see him growing more. Shuichi’s sure he’s changed through spending a lot of time with Rantaro and the other people in his life.

Miss Nakamura comes downstairs before long, smiling when she meets Shuichi’s gaze. Shuichi stands up from the couch, where he had taken a seat before, and waves to her. His relationship with Rantaro’s step-mothers should be strained, considering that he was kind of yelling at  _ them  _ too the night they first met, but they’ve made an effort to be friendly and positive since then, especially in regards to the search… so at least his words got through to somebody. Miss Nakamura specifically has been treating him with remarkable kindness ever since he and Rantaro brought Tsubaki back from Spain four years ago. Perhaps that was what convinced her that the search is worthwhile.

Like her daughters, Miss Nakamura has long, wavy maroon hair, which today she has tied into a ponytail. She has a dark complexion (though Jack’s is darker; Jack is African American and it’s difficult to compete with that, although Shuichi thinks that Jack might be mixed for his eyes to be that shade of green in particular) and is very slim. Unlike Tsubaki, Miss Nakamura is outgoing and friendly. Case-in-point: when she arrives downstairs, she immediately pulls Shuichi into a tight hug.

“It’s good to see you,” she says warmly, smiling when they pull away. “You’ve been keeping busy, haven’t you? You made the news recently with that kidnapping case!”

“Ah,” Shuichi hadn’t meant to solve that one, he’d just been up really late watching unsolved mystery videos in his region and happened to figure out a key piece of evidence in one of them. Still, it’s nice to know that Miss Nakamura follows his work. He offers a smile. “Yeah, it was… it’s nice to see you too, Miss Nakamura.”

“You’re so formal, dear,” Miss Nakamura waves a hand, gesturing at the couches, and when she’s sat down Shuichi follows suit, resuming his spot near the window. “Do you want anything to drink? I can ring the maid, she isn’t busy with anything at the moment.”

“Oh, no, that’s alright,” Shuichi smiles awkwardly. “I was actually wondering if I could ask you a question?”

“Of course, I assumed your visit had a reason,” Miss Nakamura’s own smile is wry. “I don’t think you’d come by just for a chat without Rantaro with you, your time seems to be very important,” Shuichi feels his face heating up, which is a bit annoying, because if he gets embarrassed he’s going to get distracted. It’s not Miss Nakamura’s fault, though; she’s just being kind. “How can I help you?”

“Uhm, I was wondering,” Shuichi clears his throat. “Do you have any pictures of Kikuko around? We… have a lead, as to where she might be, but… it’s difficult to track her, because her circumstances are… complicated.”

Miss Nakamura considers the question. “Pictures of Kikuko… well, I’d have to go look-- I think you’d be better off asking Ichirou about that, though, sweetheart, because--”

“Asking Ichirou what?” Rantaro’s father appears in the doorway, and Shuichi suppresses his shock at seeing him all of a sudden, because he figures it would be rude to jump in surprise when his boyfriend’s father arrives in a room. He was sort of hoping that he wouldn’t have to talk to Ichirou Amami, but now that he’s here, it seems like it can’t be avoided. “Oh, hello Shuichi, I didn’t know that you were planning on dropping by, or else I’d have been downstairs to greet you,” he smiles one of his formal, slightly tight smiles. If Miss Nakamura notices the distance iciness in his gaze, she doesn’t say anything about it. Shuichi swallows.

“It’s alright, I probably should have called ahead of time,” he clears his throat. “I was wondering if there were any other pictures of Kikuko around that Rantaro and I could use in our search.”

“They have a lead,” Miss Nakamura explains, looking at her ex-husband. “I think having as many pictures as they can would probably be helpful since Kikuko was lost so long ago, Ichirou.”

“Hmm,” Amami’s gaze is critical, which makes Shuichi nervous. It’s a look so unlike anything he would expect to see on Rantaro’s face, that Rantaro so strongly resembles his father makes Shuichi’s stomach turn slightly. Still, though, he probably won’t do any good in this situation by acting flighty. “I’m curious about this lead, would you mind explaining it to me?”

Technically, Shuichi could. He and Rantaro aren’t obligated to keep what they know about Kikuko a secret, except that revealing what they know could potentially get Kyoko and Mukuro in huge trouble, since the two of them are supposed to be keeping all of this under wraps. Regardless, Shuichi kind of needs the pictures… and it is Amami’s  _ daughter  _ they’re talking about here, whether or not Amami’s parenting skills are… disputable. He can be honest that there’s not much he can reveal while still giving Amami a good idea of the full picture.

“If you can’t, Shuichi, it’s fine,” Miss Nakamura says. “I’m sure you and Rantaro have a very good handle on all of this stuff.”

Her faith is… remarkable. She must have been worried sick over Tsubaki. Shuichi manages a smile. “It’s alright, Miss Nakamura. I can’t tell you all the facts, but I can summarise. It’s, uhm, a lot, though, so I should warn you.”

“Warning received,” Amami replies, and for the first time, when he smiles, the corner of his eye crinkles a bit. Shuichi feels as though he was just given some kind of a test. Amami seats himself next to his ex-wife and leans forward. “Tell me about my daughter.”

And so Shuichi does.

\---

Maemi’s head hurt.

The lights were far, far too bright, and she was cold, too. Some part of her brain registered that she was lying down on concrete, of some sort, and it was difficult to maintain her body heat on that kind of a surface. She shivered, frowning, and blinked her eyes open, attempting to adjust to the bright light.

Where was she? When her eyes adjusted she pushed herself to sit up, bending one of her legs underneath herself and looking around. The space she was in had bright lights, yet at the same time it felt claustrophobic and drafty. A basement, perhaps? That surmise felt correct. There was nothing down here, just concrete walls and floor. Her knee was bleeding a bit and it left a reddish smear on the grey floor. Maemi bit her lip looking down at the stain. Her knee was unprotected by her skirt, and it stung a bit, but she didn’t have a bandaid so there was nothing she could do.

Frantically, she tried to wrack her memories for what had happened. She snuck away, found a coin. Someone grabbed her from behind and knocked her out. Remembering the pinch, Maemi winced, reaching back to rub the back of her neck. Ouchie. She crawled over to the wall and braced herself against it, getting to her feet. At the very end of the room their was staircase, but when she managed to hobble over to it, she saw a closed door at the end of it. She didn’t suppose that it would be unlocked.

What was this? Everything felt wrong and uneven. Her family was probably so worried about her… she shouldn’t have snuck off. The coin was still in her pocket but its weight felt a very stupid price to pay for being wherever she was. Perhaps she should try the door, maybe it  _ would _ be unlocked…

Before she could go about doing so, however, she heard footsteps approaching, and then all of a sudden the door swung open, revealing a tall man. The one who kidnapped her, probably. Maemi backtracked, moving until she was against the wall and therefore as far away from him as she could be, but didn’t look away from him as he closed the door behind himself and then walked down the stairs.

He was very tall. It was difficult to make out his face, but he had blue eyes. He was a white man, so probably a tourist. What a lame thing, to be kidnapped by a tourist. Maybe the coin was even his. Maemi glowered at him, trying not to look afraid. She had read books before where characters got kidnapped, and the main characters always went for their pressure points in self defense. What were his pressure points? Maemi attempted to locate the spot on his chest that would knock the wind out of him. Was she fast enough to dart past him and get to the door?   
  


She was about to make good on her tentative plan, but then the man spoke. It was clearly English (Spanish was more melodic) but Maemi didn’t  _ know  _ English. She wanted to learn for sure, but she just didn’t have the time when her family traveled so much. He kept talking at her though, because perhaps he didn’t realise that she didn’t understand him. When he fell quiet, he waited, as though expecting a response, and when he didn’t receive one, he got an annoyed look on his face, and spoke again, a little more harshly.

  
Worried that he’d think she was trying to sass him, Maemi blurted, “I don’t speak English!” in Japanese. This seemed to give him pause. He gave her a searching look and spoke again. A question this time. Maemi shook her head, frowning and crossing her arms. She wanted to go home, it was far too cold and this man was all tough edges and abrasive tones. Eventually, after looking at her for a long moment, he sighed and turned around, walking up to the door. Maemi wasn’t sure what he was intending, but then he opened it and looked back at her, gesturing for her to follow.

  
She trusted this man about as much as she liked social studies, but she didn’t have a ton of options, so she hugged her arms closer against her body and followed him upstairs.

The main part of the building they were in was significantly warmer. The walls were painted white, and the furniture was a boring beige colour. He pointed at a couch, as though to tell her to sit on it, and tentatively she did-- though she noticed as well that there was a door off to her left, and bit her lip, wanting to look at it but not trusting that he wouldn’t notice. He said something and then disappeared from the room. His voice drifted down the hall a moment later, as though he was speaking on the phone.

Maemi couldn’t ascertain that he was completely distracted, but she didn’t care. Her chest was crawling and she felt unsafe looking around his house, at his plastic plants and the photographs of him and some little boy-- his son, perhaps? It felt dangerous and scary and her legs moved on their own, taking her to the door. The locks were pretty straightforward, she just twisted them both to the right and tugged the door open. It made a squeak and the man’s voice stopped.

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation. Maemi hopped the stairs in the front of his house and cut across his lawn at a sprint, running fast and far, far away-- as far away as she could hope to get. She was going to get herself even more impossibly lost, she knew on some level, but that didn’t matter to her even a little bit. She had to get away.

\---

As soon as Shuichi and Rantaro are off the plane in France, they take the TGV to Paris from the airport and head to their hotel to drop off their luggage before walking the rest of the way to Marie’s bakery.

They’re not here to visit Kasumi, at least not specifically, but it’s nice to drop by anyway. Shuichi has found, through a number of interactions, that Kasumi is actually very, very funny. She picked up her mother’s (as in Marie’s, though Miss Hamada isn’t a bad baker) touch for pastries, and every time he and Rantaro pop by, she has a box in hand full of carbs. Not that either of them is worried about a little bit of carbohydrates intake. Kasumi is too good of a baker for them to care about that.

The reason that they’re actually in Paris right now is because they’re following a lead on Kikuko. The assassination that she potentially enacted didn’t happen recently, but rather several months ago. Even so, it hasn’t been released to the public yet as another crime by the Chrysanthemum Killer. Rantaro thought it would be a good idea to check things out here before the news got ahold of the information, so that’s why they came. Shuichi thinks that that’s a pretty good idea, though he’s not sure what’s going to come of this trip. Mostly they’ll be looking into the woman who got killed (a Chinese diplomat living here, in Paris) and what possible motivations whoever it was that hired Kikuko could’ve had.

It’s pretty terrible to be thinking about it as though Kikuko is one hundred percent the killer, but at this point there’s no evidence to the contrary. Shuichi half wishes that they could be wrong, and that Kikuko was found by some sweet Filipino family and taken in, but… that would be wishful thinking, and he’s  _ far  _ past the point where hiding from the truth would be acceptable. It’s Rantaro’s baby sister at stake, here. Shuichi needs to be realistic.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rantaro asks, sliding an arm around Shuichi’s waist and dropping a kiss onto the crown of his head. Shuichi tilts his face up to meet his boyfriend’s gaze, offering a smile.

“Is that your new way of asking me what I’m thinking?” he asks, arbitrarily, because it clearly is. Rantaro chuckles (still an addictive sound, after all of this time) but doesn’t dispute the question. He just squeezes Shuichi’s side, as though waiting for him to answer the question. “I’m just, ah, thinking about Kikuko,” Shuichi admits after a moment, more quietly than is perhaps tactful. The smile doesn’t slip from Rantaro’s expression, but it falters a little bit, and Shuichi sighs, nudging him with his arm. He doesn’t need to force any smiles in front of Shuichi. They’re beyond that by now.

“What are you thinking about her?” Rantaro seems to be wanting to take this into stride, and Shuichi decides not to push the subject. He rests his head against Rantaro’s arm as they walk.

“I’m just wondering about… the case we’re here to take a look at,” he pauses. “Maybe that’s all I should say in public,” he adds, more quietly, and Rantaro nods, understanding lighting his green eyes. Shuichi appreciates Rantaro’s skill for discretion. Of course, as a result, Rantaro is very talented when it comes to hiding his  _ own  _ emotions, but that can be dealt with. This kind of thing, if they spread it around, could have catastrophic results.

Marie’s bakery is closed on Saturdays, but when they arrive at the door, Rantaro just rings the bell. Kasumi was informed of this visit ahead of time, so it’s no surprise when she appears at the door a moment later, holding her old dachshund, Taro, in one hand and unlocking the door with the other. Kasumi, like her sister Mahoko, has a very round face and very curly chestnut-brown hair. She’s heavyset, like her mother, and her smiles light up her eyes. She’s much louder than her mother or her sister, but in the way that she moves, it’s clear that she is related to them, even after all these years.

(Shuichi smiles when he recalls the day two years ago when Kasumi and Mahoko reunited. The both of them decided to stay with the families they found overseas, a decision which has been remarkably easy to manage thus far, but they’ve been accommodating when it comes to visits and the like. It wasn’t difficult to get from Italy to France, though, so that one was just fine. To Shuichi’s knowledge, Kasumi and Mahoko see each other fairly often.)

“You two look like you just got off a plane,” Kasumi smiles. Her time in Paris shines through in her Japanese, affected by her French accent, but she’s still perfectly comprehensible. 

“We  _ are  _ just off a plane,” Rantaro grins. “And hungry,” he adds, thoughtfully. Kasumi laughs, shaking her head. Her hair was in a bob when they first met her, but she’s grown it out a decent amount and tied it up into a messy bun, likely to keep it out of her face while she bakes. Shuichi notes that she, just like Rantaro and Aki, has an undercut now. They really are in fashion.

“Come on in, we just pulled some scones out of the oven,” Kasumi steps to the side to let them in. Shuichi kicks the dirt off his shoes and steps into the bakery, breathing in the smell of freshly baked bread and, likely from what Kasumi just described, scones. Kasumi dumps her dog down into his bed (receiving an indignified huff from the animal in question) before dusting off her apron and moving over to sweep Rantaro into a tight hug. “How are you?”

Rantaro inhales as he reciprocates the embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of his sister’s head. “‘m okay,” he says quietly, and Shuichi thinks,  _ ah, alright,  _ before sneaking over to Taro. Taro is so old now but his tail still wags like crazy when Shuichi reaches down to scratch him behind the ears, smiling slightly. Shuichi is a cat person for sure (dogs just have too much energy) but even before getting old Taro was lazy and cuddly. Difficult not to like. Plus, the fact that he’s named after Shuichi’s boyfriend certainly helps. Taro nudges Shuichi’s hand with his snout, and well,  _ cute. _

“Okay, don’t think that just because you give my dog attention you’re going to get out of hugs, get over here,” Kasumi speaks from behind him, and Shuichi laughs, getting to his feet and turning around to accept the offered hug. Kasumi gives really good hugs, actually, tight and warm, and she smells like baked bread, which is unimaginably pleasant. They let go after a shorter amount of time than with Rantaro’s hug, but still, Shuichi leaves it feeling comforted. “I’m happy you guys were in town, Mom somehow discovered Snapchat filters and she’s been driving me crazy,” Kasumi whispers the last part, but it doesn’t stop Marie from hearing her from the back room, letting out a loud laugh.

“You’re just upset because I look better with the dog ears and snout than you do,” Marie beams, stepping out. Her hands are covered in flour, but when she notices Shuichi and Rantaro, that doesn’t stop her from rushing forward to hug them both. And, also, kissing them on both of their cheeks, because the French are like that. Apparently this is one tradition Kasumi decided to sit out on. Rantaro, having a good amount of cultural awareness, reciprocates, but Shuichi is caught off guard by it and… doesn’t. Marie doesn’t seem to mind, though, because she pulls away beaming. “Let me wash up real quick, and I’ll bring out breakfast! Kasumi, have you set the table?”

“Yeah, Mama,” Kasumi rolls her eyes, tossing her apron behind the counter. “Like I’d forget, Rantaro texted me at one in the morning.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rantaro smiles apologetically. “We were getting on the plane.”

“It’s okay, I was already awake,” Kasumi admits. “I keep my ringer off, y’know? It helps me ghost people,” she sticks her tongue out at Marie as she disappears into the back again, and gestures for Rantaro and Shuichi to follow her to the stairs, so that they can eat in her and Marie’s actual dining room. Rantaro takes Shuichi’s hand and interlaces their fingers as they walk, and Shuichi gives his boyfriend’s hand a squeeze.

\---

Maemi stopped running… eventually. The streets were empty of people, shutters down on all the houses and doors closed. It was chilly outside, and overcast, which made Maemi think it was somewhat early in the morning, just after the sun finished rising. That man wasn’t following her-- or if he was, lost her somewhere along the way. So her parents weren’t the only ones who lost her that day.

Her lungs ached and wheezed from all the running. Her feet hurt too, because she was wearing flats and the pounding on the concrete wasn’t good at all. She wanted a pair of jeans, good old reliable jeans, that would’ve made her feel so much more steady walking down the streets. Instead she was still wearing her pink skirt. And like, she  _ liked  _ pink, she just felt… odd, was all. Maemi lifted her head as she neared a corner and squinted at the white letters. They were the same characters that were in Spanish words, but she noticed a significant lack of accents of any kind. In fact, as she continued to walk along, all the street signs (or signs of  _ any  _ variety) she passed shared those very characteristics.

She found herself stopped outside a house, staring at the small sign they had in their lawn. It was blue, red, and white, with something in big white letters, and then smaller white letters underneath. Maemi stared at it for a long time, but she just couldn’t read it. Rantaro knew English, and Mina, and… Rui… Maemi bit her lip. She wished that her brother was there. Or Tsubaki, even though Tsubaki didn’t know English (didn’t care to know it, what with her fascination with Spain), in fact she might’ve even preferred her older sister there with her, because at least she’d known Tsubaki always and forever.

On second thought… any one of her sisters might have been okay. Maemi turned to leave, chewing on her thumbnail, but stopped when someone yelled something behind her. It was a man’s voice, and for a moment she worried that it was the man who took her, but for some reason she didn’t think so. The voice was a lot lower, smoother. Kinder, even, though Maemi couldn’t really say  _ that  _ with any certainty. Regardless, she turned around, lowering her hand to her side, and looked up to see who called out.

The man who approached her was tall too, but shorter than the man from before. His skin was darker, in fact darker than Maemi’s, but his eyes were the same shade as hers, almond-shaped and worried. Not blue, Maemi noted, and found herself relaxing. He was wearing a strange hat on his head, like a cowboy from an American movie, and a beige shirt with badges pinned onto it. One of the badges was a yellow star. Was he a police officer? Weird police officer, though. In Japan, they definitely didn’t wear those hats.

He said something else, but he was clearly speaking English. English. Everyone here was speaking English. Why? Maybe she wasn’t in Mexico anymore? But if so, then where was she? Maemi swallowed down a lump of anxiety. The man looked nice; he stopped a safe distance away from her and crouched down, a very worried look on his face. He said something, but Maemi still couldn’t understand him. His eyebrows tilted more, and Maemi felt almost bad, like she did something wrong by not knowing English. Should she speak to him? Try to explain?

Before she could make up her mind, the man straightened up and offered her a hand. His hands were large and wrinkly, hair on the back like her step-father’s. His eyes were kinder than her step-father’s though. Maemi bit her lip. Was he asking her to go with him? Go with him where? Maybe the police station?

Well, the police were  _ good,  _ so… Maemi sucked in a breath and took his hand, figuring that if he tried anything, she could go for his pressure point and run, just like she would’ve done with that last man. (The police-officer looking man seemed relieved by this, her cooperation, and he guided her down the sidewalk, walking at a steady pace so that she could follow.)

\---

“So after Paris, you guys are taking the train to London, right?” Kasumi leans back in her seat, sipping from a mug of tea. Shuichi nods, lacing his fingers together in his lap. Rantaro and Marie are in the kitchen together taking are of dishes; Kasumi and Shuichi offered to help, but there’s only so much space in there, so they’ve been out here instead, making small talk over green tea, which Kasumi seems to have in excess. It’s not so bad. Kasumi is the one of Rantaro’s sisters who Shuichi would easily consider himself to be the closest to, simply because of the conversation they had four years ago, sitting outside of the bakery. She also just has a comfortable atmosphere, though. “To do that, uh, opening, thing.”

“Right,” Shuichi affirms, nodding his head. They aren’t going to London to look for Rui-- though that’s admittedly part of it. The reason they’re going there now, specifically, is because Hope’s Peak Academy is opening up a school in London, and all the alumni have been invited to the ceremony. “I’m a bit apprehensive, to be honest. My time at Hope’s Peak was good, but, ah, it’s not really a mindset that we should be perpetuating, I don’t think… that some people are superior to others.”

“They sure do help some less fortunate kids out of rough patches,” Kasumi remarks. “They have their upsides and downsides for sure. Maybe London will do it better. Maybe not. When’s the ceremony?”

“A week from now,” Shuichi sips his own tea but puts it down quickly because it’s still a bit too hot for him. Kasumi must have extra resistance to the higher temperature. She smiles but doesn’t make any commentary, which is much appreciated. “We have some things that we’d like to do in Paris beforehand, though, so…”

“Other than visiting me?” Kasumi pouts.

“Ah, I mean, visiting you is definitely a  _ priority,  _ but I--”

“I’m just kidding,” Kasumi waves her hand, grinning. “You’re easy to tease, Shuichi. Rantaro takes things into stride and it’s inconvenient from time to time.”

“Oh, really? I think it depends on the joke,” Shuichi hums, tilting his head to the side. “Have you tried--”

“Hey,” Rantaro’s voice sounds from the kitchen. “It sounds like you two are comparing notes on how to bully me and I won’t stand for it.”

“You’re powerless to stop me, Rantaro,” Kasumi returns. Rantaro exclaims something in the kitchen and Shuichi laughs, covering his mouth with a hand. It’s remarkable how… happy, Rantaro is, around his sisters. Not that Rantaro is necessarily  _ sad  _ all the time when they’re alone together, but it’s a difficult kind of happiness, and Shuichi isn’t bothered by that. He wants to see Rantaro happy like that all the time. This is, perhaps, his biggest incentive for trying to bring the other seven of them home.

(Shuichi isn’t sure when that happened. It used to be that his only reasoning for wanting to go with Rantaro was to help him out, and to be with him so they wouldn’t have to do a long-distance-relationship. Not that Shuichi is complaining. Not even a little bit.)

\---

Andy decided that he had definitely come across more troubling situations before. He was McAllen’s sheriff, after all. It took more to throw him for a loop. Definitely. Absolutely.

That being said, he really wasn’t sure… what to do. Because the little girl clearly didn’t understand English. It was difficult to place her, where she was from and who she was, but he thought she was from some country in Eastern Asia. That didn’t narrow down a lot, though. And the way she drummed her fingers on the table as she looked around the office, he could tell she was getting antsy. Without her name or even a way of communicating with her, there was no way that Andy could call her parents to pick her up, so… what exactly was he supposed to do with the kid? He didn’t even know her name.

“She’s bored,” his secretary, Esperanza, remarked. She leaned forward, resting her face on her palm, and gazed over at the little girl, who was kicking her feet back and forth. “Definitely bored. You gave her food and water, at least?”

“Of course I did,” Andy frowned, running a hand through his hair. (He took off his hat and hung it up when he arrived.) “I don’t have kids, ‘Ranza, how should I know how to entertain her?”

“You don’t need to have kids to figure out what a kid wants,” Esperanza rolled her eyes, smiling slightly. “She’s sitting here for almost an hour, she needs some kind of stimulation. Something fun to do.”

Andy considered what she was saying. “Should I run to the dollar store and buy a rubix cube?”

“Our sheriff, ladies and gentlemen,” Esperanza announced to the empty office. Andy sighed, dropping back in his seat. The smile she gave him was slightly more sympathetic. She opened a drawer and pulled out a large box of crayons, placing a colouring book next to it. “Here, give it to her, you hopeless man,” she pushed the book in his direction.

“I ought to fire you for the cheek,” Andy grumbled, knowing full well he would never do such a thing. Esperanza laughed at him, which pretty much went to prove his point. He picked up the book and the crayons, juggling them in the crook of his arm as he walked to the door. “Why do you even have this on hand? Do you have younger siblings, or something?”

“No, I have them for myself,” Esperanza replied. It took Andy a moment to realise she was being serious. When he did, his eyebrows raised slightly, and she smiled. “What? It helps me to calm down when I’m nervous, or focus during meetings. Everyone thinks that I’m taking notes when really I’m taking notes up in my head, you know? It’s an effective strategy, you might try it at some point. Might stop your anxiety from running wild one of these days.”

Chuckling, Andy said, “I think that’s kind of a lost cause,” and caught Esperanza’s shrug as he ducked out the door. He approached the little girl warily but she didn’t seem to be all that afraid of him anymore. When he stopped by her, she looked up, eyes stopping on the colouring book momentarily but then going up to his eyes. Esperanza may have had a point. He placed the supplies next to her on the table, smiling. “Here, knock yourself out,” he said, despite knowing that she wouldn’t understand a word. The girl looked at him for a moment, but then reached out for the box of crayons, flipping the lid and selecting what appeared to be chartreuse. Not a bad colour.

He stood there watching her colour in a mandala for a moment too long, then turned around and slipped back into his office, resuming his seat. The little girl was colouring away, and Esperanza had a self-satisfied look on her face.

  
“Yeah, yeah,” he waved her off. “Kiddo’s entertained. Still don’t know what to do in the long run.”

“Well,” Esperanza pondered the question. “If nobody comes for her, then you take her home.”

“What? ‘Ranza, that’s kidnapping.”

“What is your alternative? Take her to the orphanage?” Andy frowned at the thought, and Esperanza nodded. “Leave her here? She hasn’t even said a word to you, Andy. You need to take her home until you figure out a better solution.”

Andy sighed. His secretary had a point. “How do you always get the answers to these things?”

“I happen to be three times as intelligent as you are,” Esperanza replied. Andy laughed, shaking his head.

“Can’t argue with that one,” he sighed again. And after a while, he added, “Thanks, Esperanza.”

“Save your thanks for when the kid is home safe,” Esperanza turned back to her monitor to start working again. “We shouldn’t speak too soon, that’s bad luck.”

\---

Since Shuichi and Rantaro don’t have the same contacts as Kyoko’s organisation, they can’t examine the body. There’d be no point to it, anyway. They know exactly how she was killed; a bullet to the back of the skull. Just one. Quick and immediate and painless. After that a white chrysanthemum was placed on top of her chest, and the assassin took their leave. Assuming, as they are, that Kikuko is the assassin, and that she was taken by the cult that Kyoko and Mukuro’s group is following, this is kind of an important case.

What they can do, however, is talk to her family. Since graduating Hope’s Peak Academy, Shuichi’s made international news a couple times. Not enough to be a household name by any means, and he prefers not to go around flaunting his meager fame because he’d like to have a quiet life after finding the rest of Rantaro’s sisters, but enough that, when he reaches out to the family of the victim, they agree to meet with him. Typically, Shuichi’s first step in solving a murder would be to visit the next-of-kin, so this is a good thing. That doesn’t mean he’s not a little bit apprehensive, though.

The diplomat was in her early sixties, named Li Jing Chao. She was apparently trilingual, fluent in Mandarin, English, and French. Shuichi didn’t know anything about her prior to her assassination, but then again, he’s not exactly well-versed in French-Chinese politics. Her husband passed away several years ago, but she has two surviving daughters, and they are the ones who agreed to answer a few of Shuichi’s questions.

Li Jing gave her daughters French names, as they both grew up in France (though, like their mother, they’re both fluent all three of the languages their mother spoke, which makes the questioning process go a little bit smoother). Madeline is the oldest, though she seems more quiet than her younger sister, Sylvie. They’re both adults now, in fact Madeline is, at Shuichi’s estimate, probably a year or two younger than him and Rantaro. They’re both fully capable of taking care of themselves, but that doesn’t make Li Jing’s death any less of a tragedy. Twenty four and twenty two years old, and Madeline and Sylvie have already lost both of their parents.

Sylvie, speaking in English, fills Shuichi and Rantaro in about what Li Jing was trying to accomplish before she was assassinated. She was attempting to negotiate something with China-- it would’ve been a controversial decision, according to Sylvie, had the proceedings been able to continue more than they had, but Li Jing was influential and largely well-liked.

“I’m not just saying this because I’m her daughter,” Sylvie smiles sadly, tucking her fingers around the steaming mug of coffee that is resting on the table in front of her. “Mom had a way of getting you to do what she wanted. I’m certain it would’ve gone through.”

For a  _ diplomat  _ to be assassinated, Shuichi has absolutely no doubt in his mind that Sylvie’s confidence stems from more than just familial pride, and he tells her as much, trying to wrap his head around what he’s hearing. Clearly, whoever called for Li Jing to be assassinated was somebody who desperately didn’t want this deal to go through. Could it really have been so controversial that it was worth killing over?

Well, Shuichi knows the answer to  _ that  _ question, at least… nothing is worth killing over, not a single thing. He can’t put the blame on Kikuko, not when she was kidnapped at a young age and forced into this-- not when she, just like Maki was back in her youth, is essentially an instrument, a tool to be used to shed blood and nothing more than that-- but still, he feels bitter resentment burning in the pit of his stomach as he watches Sylvie and Madeline interact. There is a deep sadness behind both of their eyes, the type that softens but never fades over time. They will never stop feeling the effects of these losses. Perhaps they’ll move past it, go towards the future, but… they won’t be getting back that time with their mother.

“I’m, very sorry to ask this,” Shuichi prefaces quietly, tucking his hands into his lap. Rantaro has been mostly silent this whole time, processing the information-- as awful as all this is Shuichi has faith that Rantaro won’t get disheartened, because he’s determined in that way. Regardless, it’s not easy to hear, and Rantaro doesn’t have the same experience conducting murder investigations that Shuichi does. “But was there anybody significant who was loudly opposed to what your mother was trying to do? I understand that you can’t fill me in on the specifics; there are restrictions and barriers in place and I don’t need that information to proceed, I’m just trying to figure out if--”

“Mom was killed by the Chrysanthemum Killer, wasn’t she?” Sylvie asks, her brow furrowing. “A serial killer. Why does it matter if anyone was against what she was trying to do?”

“Uhm,” Shuichi, taken aback by the question, scrambles to gather his thoughts enough to give Sylvie a proper explanation without revealing potentially life-threatening information. “We believe that the Chrysanthemum Killer is-- an assassin. A contract killer, someone who is hired. They mainly do political assassinations, after all. Of course, it  _ could  _ be a serial killer with a very strong hatred of politicians, but I doubt that any one person would have the capacity to travel as much as they have. More likely it’s an assassin from a large group with a lot of resources.”

“Assassins don’t leave marks, though, do they?” Sylvie frowns. “Isn’t that-- I don’t know-- dangerous? Risky? Arrogant?”

If it weren’t Kikuko, and if the flower wasn’t a white chrysanthemum, and if the cult in question didn’t kidnap five and six year olds, then yes, Shuichi would be inclined to agree with Sylvie about it being arrogant. It would make sense, having less information, to believe that the only reason an assassin would leave a mark would be because they want to take credit for the deaths. But Shuichi doesn’t feel like that’s grounded in reality as far as Kikuko is concerned. No, his conjecture is that… Kikuko leaves those flowers as a sign of respect. To mourn her victims. “It’s impossible to guess at the killer’s motivations, at least with the little information that we have,” Shuichi says evenly. It’s a lie, but it isn’t as though he could give Sylvie the truth.

She opens her mouth, as though to say something else, but Madeline interrupts her, her gaze still fixed on her cup of coffee. “There was one person. Mom complained about him sometimes. An American ambassador called Patrick Evans,” she pauses, looking up to meet Shuichi’s eyes. “You don’t think he hired an assassin to go after my mother, do you?”

Shuichi supposes that it would be a cop out to tell her that he doesn’t have enough information to have any guesses. “I’m going to be exploring every possibility, Miss Chao. I’m… very sorry for your loss,” he lowers his voice, holding the watery gaze of Madeline Chao for much longer than his teenage self would have been able to handle. “We’ll find the person responsible for your mother’s death, regardless of whether it is the assassin themselves or the person who hired them.”

_ Both, ideally,  _ Shuichi adds to himself. Rantaro squeezes his shoulder on the way out of their residence, and it’s nice to know that he’s there, but nothing is going to be sufficient when it comes to the fact that no matter how many promises Shuichi makes, or condolences he offers, none of it is going to give Madeline and Sylvie their mother back.

\---

The man who took her to his home (the second one, the one with the kind eyes and heeled boots) was named Andy.

Maemi picked this up because he told her as much, but also because it was what everyone called him. Actually, perhaps his name was something else, something that Andy was short for. She didn’t know, really. Andy was a nice, two syllable name, though. It was like Rui. They even rhymed, kinda. It really showed how much she was missing her sisters, if she was looking for connections between sweet, quiet, observant Rui and Andy, who got badgered by every one of his coworkers despite clearly being the one in charge, but… well, it was difficult not to think of Rui when she, Maemi, was lost as well.

There were worse places to be lost, she supposed. The office that Andy kept on taking her to was cozy, the carpet was colourful and the people were nice. His secretary was very very pretty, with caramel coloured skin and long dark hair that she braided and wrapped around her head, and she was funny, too, in vocal inflection. She and Andy talked to each other a lot in higher voices, and sometimes Andy’s face flushed with exasperation, but their eyes squinted with fondness whenever they looked at each other. It was… really sweet. Maemi’s parents (like, her mom and her birth dad) used to look at each other like that, once upon a time.

Plus, Andy was a good cook. They had a cook back in Japan, too, named Hiromi, and Hiromi was both very nice and a very good cook. As much as this was the truth, Maemi kind of liked Andy’s cooking more. He talked a lot when he did so, and she didn’t understand him but she was starting to like the sounds of English. The rough, jagged tones were so expressive-- though maybe that was just Andy-- and the words were so animated and bright. His apartment felt like it was full of laughter, even though he was the only person living in it.

All of that aside, Maemi was getting restless. Her routine had become be at the apartment with Andy, and then go to the office and colour all day. She had filled up three whole colouring books and she was tired of people having one-sided conversations with her in a language that she couldn’t understand. She wanted to go outside and explore. Unfortunately there was virtually no way for her to convey this to Andy, who seemed pretty hopeless when it came to taking care of her unless his secretary was helping him out.

She was… admittedly… excited, about being in this new place. Not enough that she didn’t want to go home, because she did… desperately. She wanted to hug her sisters and her brother and all her step-mothers one by one, even her step-father if that would be okay. She missed Japan and the hustle and bustle of the big city. Wherever she was now, it was all dusty and quiet. Still, though, totally unfamiliar and new to her, and despite her reservations, there was that familiar pull in her gut to go out exploring. And Maemi had never been one to ignore her desires.

It was kind of a struggle trying to convey that to Andy, though. She was starting to pick up on words that he said a lot-- like, she was decently certain that  _ howdy  _ was how English-speakers said hello, based on how often people said it around the office-- but nothing was happening fast enough. She thought that it would be nice to go to a park and look around, chart the whole area in her mind and keep it there for later use. What she  _ really  _ wanted was to be given reigns to explore the whole neighbourhood by herself and get to know the area, but she figured that was probably asking too much. Besides, Maemi desperately wanted to get away and go home, but at least with Andy she was safe and fed. If she snuck off alone there was a chance she might get… well, that she might get taken again, by that man.

The way she finally managed to communicate what she wanted to Andy was by drawing a picture. She wasn’t nearly as good at drawing as she was with colouring, but she had lots of crayons and one of the colouring books she was given had a lot of blank pages, so she did her best. Andy himself actually wasn’t able to figure out what she was trying to say to him when she stuck it in his face; it was his secretary, the one who took out the colouring supplies in the first place, who took a look at the page and said something to Andy in English, and understanding dawned in his expression.

After he finished up at the office that day, instead of driving back to his apartment, he drove Maemi to a park. Most of the trees were bare by then, as autumn progressed, but the leaves that remained were all in pretty tones of red and orange. The ones that fell onto the concrete crunched under Maemi’s boots, and she kicked them up as she explored the place. The air was cool and pleasant, and after she was done looking around, Andy took her to eat at a restaurant. It was a nice day, overall.

(Maemi still really wanted to go home though. And she couldn’t miss the way that Andy’s brow wrinkled every time he thought she wasn’t looking. It would have to be addressed eventually. But maybe Maemi would have to learn English first.)

\---

On the screen of Shuichi’s laptop, Kaede’s eyes are bright and twinkling, newly-cut short hair framing her face as she leans in to talk. It’s clear that she’s in a hotel room, if only because Shuichi’s been by her and Tsumugi’s apartment dozens of times; enough to have a pretty strong idea of what her bedroom actually looks like. The shower is running in the background, most certainly Tsumugi washing off the mess from the plane, and Kaede is still clearly dressed despite the fact that it’s around eight in the evening in London right now, so she probably decided to hop on Skype while waiting for her turn.

“Are you just off the plane?” Shuichi asks, despite knowing that yes, Kaede and Tsumugi probably just got to their hotel room from the airport. They see each other fairly often, what with their being best friends and all (and also the fact that they live in the same part of town so there’s no reason not to go out for lunch when they’re in the area) but it’ll be nice to see them in a couple days anyway. It’ll be nice to see whoever it is that comes to the reunion, as a matter of fact. “You seem tired.”

_ “I could say the same thing to you, your hair’s a mess,”  _ Kaede remarks shrewdly, and Shuichi automatically reaches up to smooth it down. She beams at him when he does so, a gesture which makes his cheeks warm even after being friends for a decade.  _ “Why are you and Rantaro back in Paris? You already found the sister who was lost there, right?” _

“Ah, yeah, Kasumi,” Shuichi nods. “We visited her this morning, but Rantaro and I are actually here to look into a case.”

_ “A case, huh? Well, I won’t ask for details, since if you flew out of the country to work on it, it’s probably a pretty big deal!”  _ Kaede nods, reaffirming her own statement, and brushes her fringe out of her eyes.  _ “Still, how are you dealing with it? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you looking so disheveled after working on a case. Is everything okay?” _

The answer is yes, everything is fine-- just, slowgoing. They managed to track down Patrick Evans and ask him a few questions, but the interrogation went nowhere. He was evasive and borderline hostile, refusing to answer any of their questions and eventually cutting the interaction short to go attend to some business elsewhere. Shuichi didn’t like the way he glanced over his shoulder at them as he left, but if Rantaro picked up on it he didn’t comment, and so Shuichi didn’t call it out. No use verbalising fears that might not have any merit to them. “Fine, just dealt with a dodgy suspect today,” he offers her a smile that he knows looks tired. Kaede’s brow pinches in sympathy.

_ “I hope you two are staying safe. That time you came back from Berlin with a bullet wound was scary,”  _ Kaede says, and Shuichi recalls the incident in question, a broader (albeit sarcastic) smile tugging at his lips.

“Rantaro is such a mother hen, there’s no way I would’ve sustained any permanent damage,” he rolls the shoulder that got injured. There’s still a scar there, and he has a few others from a couple incidents on travels. Nothing, of course, compared to the collection that Rantaro has amassed over the years, but there’s no point in getting into that. Rantaro is sleeping on the bed behind him, and Shuichi feels that he’d better let him rest. “We’re taking the train tomorrow,” he adds, wanting to change the subject. “But I doubt we’ll have time to see you until the actual opening ceremony, since we’ll be trying to look for Rui as much as we can before and after.”

_ “Rui is another one of Rantaro’s sisters, right?” _

“Yes, one of his biological sisters. Not that it matters much,” Shuichi adds, thoughtfully. “But if you could keep an eye out for a head of green hair while you and Tsumugi go out tomorrow…”

_ “Of course,”  _ Kaede smiles softly.  _ “You’ve put so much into this search, I’m really impressed by your levels of commitment, Shuichi! I thought you’d be super unreliable when I first met you!” _

“Why would you come to that conclusion?” Shuichi pouts a bit. Kaede beams, and the sound of her laughter is fuzzy but still bright and pleasant through the laptop speakers. He really misses her. Shuichi drums his fingers on the mouse pad, thinking. “Have you prepared the speech you’re going to give the day after tomorrow?”

_ “Ugh! Don’t remind me!”  _ Kaede flops backwards into her bed, covering her face with her hands.  _ “I’m so nervous about that, how could they have asked me of all people to give a speech? They know that you were like, the first friend I ever made aside from my twin sister, right?” _

“It’s hard to think that just from looking at you,” Shuichi admits. “You’ve always been good with your words, though, Kaede. Besides, you were the class representative, of course you’d be asked. Chiaki is giving a speech too, I’ve heard.”

_ “That makes me feel even worse!”  _ Kaede moans through her hands.  _ “Chiaki is so eloquent and sexy, she’ll go up there and speak and I’ll look like a total chump!” _

Shuichi finds himself smiling despite his friend’s apparent anguish. “I think it’ll be alright. If you talk to them anything like you talk to me, they’re going to love you.”

_ “Aww, that’s really sweet, Shuichi,”  _ Kaede peeks through her fingers.  _ “Maybe they should have asked you to give a talk, y’know? You’re good at encouraging people!” _

“Uhm, no,” Shuichi chuckles at the idea. “I think that might kill me.”

_ “C’mon! Your anxiety has lessened with age!” _

“Yes, I can look people in the eyes now,” Shuichi smiles wryly. “Public speaking is a whole other playing field. I’d have a heart attack on stage and I’d have to be wheeled out on a stretcher, and then Rantaro would never let me go on a trip with him ever again.”

He means it as a joke, but Kaede sits up when he says it, frowning.  _ “Do you still worry about that?” _

“Huh?”

_ “I mean, about Rantaro kicking you off the search. You’ve been traveling together for almost ten years now, haven’t you?” _

Shuichi does a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure that Rantaro is really sleeping, but his boyfriend doesn’t even stir. He must be tired. As Shuichi speaks, he reaches out and rubs Rantaro’s arm. “It’s not that I think he’d make me leave,” he begins, hearing the uncertain lilt in his own voice and hoping it doesn’t come off as too obvious to Kaede. “It’s just that I know he worries about me, and we’ve been toeing into some dangerous territory recently-- nothing too bad,” he adds, so Kaede won’t worry, even though it’s technically a lie, “--but still, Rantaro takes so much weight onto himself and I don’t want him to feel like he’s asking a lot of me.”

_ “He  _ is _ asking a lot of you, you shouldn’t talk like he isn’t just because you’re in love with him,”  _ Kaede smiles.  _ “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be there. Just because there’s a lot of weight behind a request doesn’t make it unreasonable, y’know? And I think that it’s pretty incredible that you’ve managed to maintain the things that made your relationship so lovely to begin with after all these years. I mean, I bet most relationships would last for a while under your circumstances, just out of necessity-- like, I think a lot of people would adopt this mentality of, well, I have to stay with them, because of this important search we’re on. But I haven’t felt that with you two, not once.” _

“Ah,” Shuichi finds himself smiling a bit. Kaede is exceptionally good with words. Between her, Rantaro, and Kaito, it’s remarkable that Shuichi is still so awful when it comes to talking to people. “Thank you for that, Kaede. Uhm,” feeling as though he should reciprocate, he adds, “You and Tsumugi have a… very good relationship as well.”

_ “I hope so,”  _ Kaede’s eyes dance with mischief.  _ “I can’t talk about it here, but there’s something I want to tell you when I see you in a couple days.”  _ Shuichi raises his eyebrows, but Kaede doesn’t elaborate.  _ “I think Moogi is out of the shower, so I’m gonna go. Tell Rantaro I love him when he wakes up, okay?” _

“Of course,” Shuichi nods, a bit more exaggeratedly so that she sees it on her screen. “Love you, Kaede.”

_ “Love you too! I’ll see you in two days!” _ She waves at the screen as she reaches to end the call, and when his laptop screen goes back, Shuichi savours the warmth that lingers in his chest after their conversation for a moment before moving to put the laptop away.

\---

So, learning English was actually pretty easy.

It was nice to spend her time doing something, at any rate. There was sort of this like, urgency to do it as quickly and as efficiently as she could, because it had been over a month since she last said anything to anybody, and she was really wanting to start communicating with Andy. At the very least so that she could tell him she wanted to visit more parks.

What Maemi wanted more than she wanted to explore, though, was to go home. The thing was, she wasn’t sure if she really trusted Andy to get her there. Or that it would be a good idea to give him information about it and about who she was. Andy was nice to her. He bought her clothes and stuff and talked to her even though she didn’t really understand what he was saying (though she was getting to know more and more of what he was telling her as the days went by). But he was still, fundamentally, a stranger. She didn’t know anything about him! He lived all by himself, and worked as a police officer, and his pretty secretary was named Esperanza, but beyond all of that, Maemi didn’t know what to think.

She shouldn’t be telling a stranger stuff about herself, right? At least not until she got to understand them better. Maybe she was hurting herself by being so skeptical, but until she could understand all the words that came out of his mouth, she didn’t want to be making any plans.

There was just one tiny problem with all the English learning, though. There were so many people she saw every day all of a sudden-- white people, mostly, in fact the fact that Andy and Esperanza  _ weren’t  _ white was sort of becoming a big deal to her-- and so many faces and names she was trying to memorise. People around Andy’s office who he called deputies, other secretaries and volunteers, Andy’s friend Kyle, who stopped by his apartment every once and a while with extra food from his wife or things to talk about. Just, a lot of people. And there were so many  _ faces  _ Maemi kept seeing, she was starting to forget the ones she saw in Japan.

This didn’t occur to her until she was doodling a little dragon on the back of one of her colouring sheets. It was a green dragon, green like her step-dad’s hair, and also Rantaro and Mina and Kikuko’s and… Rui’s, and she realised that she couldn’t remember what Rui’s face looked like. Or her voice, either, it was starting to fade away. It was sort of alarming. It hadn’t been all that long ago that Rui got lost in London, but already she was starting to disappear. And Maemi had a routine! She was getting used to life here, wherever here was, and the people who she met in it. Her family would, if she continued on this way, eventually stop existing altogether.

Such was an… imaginably alarming notion. Maemi couldn’t figure out a way to fix it, because she still couldn’t entirely trust Andy and she still couldn’t entirely understand English. But there was one solution that came to mind, the only thing she could think of. If she just… wrote it down, everything she remembered, then even if she forgot it all, she’d be able to go back to it and read it again later.

This was the only way she could imagine that would preserve her memories of her family, and Japan. So the first words she spoke to Andy, in English no less, were, “Can I have a journal?”

He was so surprised to hear her speaking in English that he nearly fell off his chair, but he nodded too, saying something about a store near his apartment he’d drop by the next day, and Maemi relaxed. Just a little bit.

\---

London has been so consistently gloomy every single time Shuichi’s been here, he’s not entirely sure that the presence of the sun wouldn’t cause your typical Englishman to have a heart attack and die on the spot. Then again, perhaps this is something to do with the fact that Shuichi has almost always come here in autumn, or sometimes even winter. It’s definitely not a bad time to be by, though. He gets to wear as many dark shirts as he wants to without reaping the consequences. Rantaro might call him an emo for it, but as long as he’s not wearing grey, he’s not complaining.

That being said, it’s awfully dreary. London is a large city, but it doesn’t have the same bustling metropolitan feel as Tokyo does. Shuichi doesn’t miss it, per se, but it’s strange to be away from it considering where he grew up. There are plenty of people around, but they’re walking quickly, ready to go about their lives and get on with what they need to do. Productivity isn’t depressing but it can sometimes be sad to see people so consumed in their own thoughts.

Then again. Shuichi isn’t really an exception to this. He might  _ understand  _ English pretty well now, but he’s not in a hurry to be starting any conversations with the people around him. Rantaro’s company is just fine for him, thanks.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” Rantaro asks, disrupting his thoughts and kissing him on the side of the head. Shuichi doesn’t mind, though. It’s not like he was thinking anything particularly worthwhile. He squeezes Rantaro’s hand when he looks over to meet his eyes. “You look tired.”

“I slept fine,” Shuichi says. Not a complete lie; he slept how he usually sleeps. A bit restlessly, but nothing he can’t manage in the daylight. They got up pretty early to hop on the train to London, and Shuichi might’ve slept while they rode, but he had too much to think about to really relax. He’s been trying to think about Rui as much as possible, since they’ll be looking for her today, but his thoughts have kept drifting back to Kikuko and the most recent assassination. It’s just… he can’t really stop thinking about Madeline and Sylvie. Was he like that, after his mother died ten years ago?

“Hm,” Rantaro’s brows quirk, like he doesn’t really buy it, but Shuichi knows that he won’t call him out. There’s not much of a reason to, and having an in-depth discussion about Shuichi’s sleeping habits probably isn’t the most productive thing when it comes to their plans for the day. “Well, how about we stop by a cafe and get you some coffee? I could use the energy boost, if you won’t make fun of me for putting cream in my--”

He stops short, and after a moment, Shuichi spots the reason why; a flash of green hair, across the street, disappearing into a crowd and around the corner. The exhaustion from before seems to evaporate, and Shuichi gives Rantaro a nudge. That’s all that’s needed; Rantaro takes off running, tearing across the street and after the person who may or may not be his younger sister. Shuichi moves to follow, starting to jog to the end of the block where he can cross without the risk of getting hit by a car, but before he gets there a hand curls around his wrist and he’s yanked backwards, through the crowds of people and into an alleyway, where he is maneuvered roughly and slammed into a wall.

His head knocks against the hard bricks of the building behind him, but before Shuichi can gather his wits enough to do something, like scream, perhaps, or fight against the person holding him there, there’s a soft click, and he feels something cold against his temple.

It’s black and bulky in the corner of his eye. The barrel of a gun is pressed against his head. Shuichi feels his blood run cold, his heart flickering in his chest. His wrist has been released by now, but having his hands free doesn’t change the fact that there’s a heavy forearm resting against his neck, pressing him into the wall. That alone he could deal with, but the gun? No, Shuichi isn’t going to get out of this situation with brute force. He swallows as best as he can underneath the person’s arm and shifts his gaze to try to get a good look at him.

In the dark, greyish light of the alleyway, it would be difficult to get a read on the person’s face regardless, but they’re wearing a black mask. Washed out brown eyes peer at him from the slits in the eyes, and Shuichi suppresses the urge to shiver, thinking that doing as much would be a sign of weakness, and probably detrimental to his safety in the long run. The way they so quickly and effortlessly maneuvered him into the alleyway suggests that they’re a professional. The fact that it’s a handgun they’re pressing against his temple, something that’s been illegal in the UK for  _ decades,  _ only lends credence to this fact. Shuichi struggles to control his breathing, trying not to show his fear.

Also, the person pinning him against the wall? They’re not alone. They have a rather tall companion, leaning against the wall across the alley, their arms crossed over their chest. Like the one closest to Shuichi, this person is wearing a black mask, and gloves as well. A handgun rests in their hand, but they handle it lazy, as though they’re not planning on using it. Or, rather-- as though as an implicit threat. Even if Shuichi somehow, by an act of god, manages to disarm the person who’s got him pinned, there’s still this person to contend with.

“Saihara, right?” The voice comes from the one across the alley, low and gravelly and distinctly male, and he pushes himself off the wall as he speaks, ambling forward. His movements are slow and… cocky, Shuichi definitely feels like that’s the best word. He’s acting as though he’s untouchable, like nothing could unseat him. And he’s not wrong. Hypothetically anybody could turn down this alleyway and walk in on this, whatever situation this is meant to be, but they won’t. The place is deserted. There aren’t even any homeless people around, no boxes to indicate that homeless people have  _ been  _ here at any point. At opposite ends of the alleyway, people stream by, oblivious to what’s going on.

Shuichi isn’t sure he wants to tempt the consequences of being defiant. He gives the man a stiff nod, smoothing out his features for the third time over in an attempt to seem more impassive. It doesn’t work very well, he’s sure (he’s never been good at masking his emotions) but it’s all he can do to regain some semblance of composure right now. Screaming still isn’t out of the question-- and not even because he’s looking for some kind of help, but just… as an expression of fear. He should really avoid those.

“I should apologise for the abruptness of our introduction. We wanted to speak to you alone, you see,” the man’s voice sounds as though he’s smiling, which doesn’t make Shuichi feel any better. “Your friend is apparently notorious for disobeying authority, and we thought that you’d be a little bit more reasonable. You seem the reasonable type. Am I correct? You can speak, by the way, I’ve got no problems with that. I’m sure you know what the consequences will be if you yell out.”

He hesitates, but eventually responds, “Uhm, with all due respect, I feel like we might have very different definitions of what it means to be reasonable.”

The person holding him to the wall hisses as they shift forward, placing an unnecessary amount of pressure onto his trachea, and Shuichi jerks without meaning to, alarmed by the sudden lack of an ability to breathe. “It’s fine, you can relax. I’m not offended by a little cheek,” the other man dismisses, waving a hand, and so the pressure is relieved. But Shuichi’s throat aches in the aftermath. When he swallows it leaves a bit of a string behind. He ought to watch his mouth. “I think you’re right, though, Saihara, and thus I feel like I should cut to the chase. I’ve been made aware that you and your friend have been nosing after our organisation. We can only guess as to your motivations, as I doubt you’d tell me if I asked, but I was hoping that if I requested, very politely, you would talk to your friend and the two of you would back off.”

Should he respond? What he wants to say is  _ not a chance,  _ but he’s not sure that saying as much won’t end up with him shot in the head. He really wishes he’d paid more attention to Kaito’s trainings back in high school. Not that they would help him as far as this particular situation, but maybe he would’ve been strong enough to stand his ground when he was being grabbed to begin with. (Although, if these people are who he thinks they are, they would’ve found some way to get to him regardless. Resisting back there might have just made them angry.)

“Your silence is answer enough,” sighs the man. “I thought this might be the case. I doubt Amami would associate himself with anybody who isn’t like minded. So I want you to listen to me very carefully.”

In the blink of an eye, that man is right in front of him, gloved fingers gripping his hair and slamming his head back into the wall. The pain makes stars dance in front of his eyes, but Shuichi can hardly focus on that, because his heart begins to pound  _ heavily  _ when he realises that he can feel the other man’s breath on his face. If he wasn’t shaking before, he’s shaking now. Through the eyeholes of the man’s mask, he sees an icy cold green-- so unlike the warm, soft green of his boyfriend-- cutting through him and chilling him down to the bone.

“I’m going to let you off with a warning, since I like to think that I’m a pretty reasonable guy,” Shuichi winces at the pull on his hair, but it’s not possible for him to move his head away any with it being pressed into the wall, so all he can do is listen. “So in return, why don’t you go back to your  _ friend  _ and pass along my message? If you don’t drop the leads you’re following and mind your own damn business,” he tightens his grip on Shuichi’s hair. “Then the next time I find you-- and I  _ will  _ find you-- I’m going to put a bullet through your skull.”

Shuichi is released all at once, the pressure being lifted from his neck as his hair is released, and when the two step back, he catches himself on the wall, thinking somewhere through a haze of fear that if he collapses to the ground, it… wouldn’t be the best, if not for his safety then for his pride. He watches dizzily as they both slide their guns back into their holsters, and the man who just threatened him meets his gaze.

“That sounds like a pretty good deal, doesn’t it?” he chuckles. Shuichi glares at him, to the best of his ability, but admittedly it’s more like a sulk. He stays slumped against the wall until they leave, disappearing off into a crowd at the opposite end of the alley, and then the only thing that remains of their presence (the only reminder they were even here to begin with) is the pain in his throat and the throb of his heart, pounding in his chest.

After a while, he pushes himself up off of the wall, taking a moment to regain his balance before starting off to where he was before. Rantaro will be coming back to look for him in a bit, regardless of whether or not that was Rui he tore off after just now, so he should try to start in that direction, to make things easier on his boyfriend.

Before Shuichi even exits the alleyway, he hears Rantaro’s voice-- a lot closer than he’s expected it to be, as a matter of fact, calling out his name. His throat aches but he opens his mouth to reply--

Only for Rantaro to appear right in front of him from around the corner, nearly colliding into him. Shuichi reaches out, automatically, curls his hands around the fabric of Rantaro’s sweatshirt, and in turn Rantaro steadies himself with a hand on Shuichi’s shoulder, relief flickering in his eyes when they meet each other’s gazes.

“There you are, why didn’t you come after me?-- it wasn’t her, by the way, just some girl with dyed hair, which made me look really stupid calling out some other girl’s name, but anyway,” Rantaro chuckles in that self deprecating way he always does after he gets his hopes up, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand that isn’t resting on Shuichi’s shoulder. “I was worried when I turned around and didn’t see you, I thought something had ha-- hey, Shuichi? Are you listening to me?”

Shuichi finds that he can’t make his hands uncurl from Rantaro’s shirt. He bites his lip, looking down at Rantaro’s chest, knowing that if he sees the concern in those green eyes, he’s going to start crying. He’s shaking, harder than he was before, a lump so thick in his throat that he doesn’t think he could talk if he wanted to. He can still feel the barrel of the gun pressing into his temple, a ghost of the hand in his hair. And Rantaro is so warm, so steady, he can’t--   
  


“What happened?” Rantaro sounds worried now, his hands moving to cup Shuichi’s face and tilt it upwards. His gaze is focused on his neck, though, his brow furrowing with concern. “Shuichi, what on e-- are you okay?”

“N--” Shuichi bites his lip and screws his eyes shut, deciding that shaking his head is probably the safer option when it comes to keeping himself from crying. (So much for that plan, though, because he can feel the tears leaking from his eyes, despite his best efforts at keeping them in.) He feels Rantaro’s hands move again, to brush against the painful spot on his neck and to rest on his upper back, and just-- how  _ gentle  _ his touch is, it’s too, too much-- even though Rantaro’s always gentle like that, always so sweet, it’s too much right  _ now  _ because he can’t help thinking about being slammed into the wall, his head knocking against the brick and the sharp pull on his hair--

“Shuichi?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute, I--” he inhales, abruptly, but chokes on the air on its way out, and then it turns into a sob, and when Rantaro engulfs him in a hug, Shuichi starts to cry.

\---

Maemi made it a rule. She had her journal to keep a grip on her reality, and she would only ever write in it in Japanese. She was speaking more in English every day, but she couldn’t forget Japanese, and she couldn’t forget her family. That would be totally unacceptable. She learned a lot of things, though, the more she talked to people and the more English she learned, and when she turned eleven (three years after getting kidnapped and brought to this place) she had a pretty good list.

The place she was in was called McAllen, a border city in Texas, which was a state in the United States, which was a country in North America. Andy was the Sheriff of McAllen, though a lot of people didn’t take him very seriously, Maemi noted. He was nice and quick to smile, which made people feel pretty comfortable around him, and as a result they had that whole,  _ not taking him seriously  _ thing. Andy didn’t seem to mind; when she pointed it out to him, he laughed and said that he preferred it that way.

“I mean, it’s nice to be respected, Maemi, and I am,” he assured, resting his chin on a hand. “But I would rather people feel safe around me than feel threatened. I’m not perfect, and the justice system is flawed, especially as far south as we are, but I’m trying the best to keep this community as safe as I can. And I can’t do that if people are afraid of me.”

Sounded like he was just a big softie, but Maemi liked him. He got her a cake for each of her birthdays and enrolled her in a school nearby. There were plenty of people worth befriending there, but Maemi didn’t care so much for them as she did for the people who she wanted to get back to. Andy was definitely climbing the ranks on the list of people she trusted and cared for, though. Esperanza too. She was an awful singer but she played her music very loud and sang along to it, and it was hard to be bothered by it when she was so happy in doing so. Sometimes Maemi would be sitting in the office with her homework, on a Saturday when there was no school, and she’d catch Andy watching Esperanza work from the doorway.

Adults were so weird with their romance stuff. Andy was technically Esperanza’s boss, though, and Maemi didn’t really  _ get  _ why that was a big deal, but Andy said it was.

“I mean, okay,” Andy waved his spatula around while he talked, getting marinara sauce on his cupboard. “Uh, oops, I’ll clean that up in a minute,” he said, and Maemi giggled into a hand. “But sure, say Esperanza does-- harbour those kinds of feelings for me. Great. Cool. If she doesn’t, and I act on it anyway, what does that mean? I’m her boss, I could fire her if she rejected me. Plus, there’s a power dynamic, regardless of whether or not we act like it sometimes, and it would be pretty wrong to act on my feelings with that in place. I’ll be retiring as sheriff in a few years. When that happens, maybe I’ll think about it.”

“I don’t know what power dynamic means, Andy,” Maemi said, resting her chin on the counter. “You keep forgetting that English is my second language.”

“I kept forgetting that even before it was one of your languages, young missy,” Andy huffed out, and Maemi found herself laughing again.

He was nice to joke with. There was one… particularly, awkward, conversation, back when she was ten, but it didn’t last very long. Andy knocked on the door to her room (she had a room! Crazy. Though, again, Andy lived by himself but he had a spare room, so it wasn’t unthinkable that he was able to give it to her) and opened it when she told him he could, poking his head in.

“Uh, hey kiddo, there’s something I want to talk with you about, that okay?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, and Maemi nodded, closing her journal to put it to the side. When he got confirmation he entered the room fully, walking inside and crouching next to her. “So, you’re ten now, which means you’re at the age where you’re probably going to be… experiencing some pretty big changes soon, and I know this is a really weird thing to hear from a man who you aren’t related to, but I’ve put it off for too long, and I just wanted to talk to you about--”

“Andy,” Maemi interrupted, smiling wryly. “I know what periods are.”

“Oh,” relief streaked across his expression. “Oh, good. I was really-- alright, fantastic, I’ll just--” he started to stand up, and Maemi bit her lip, reaching out to stop him.

“But,” she continued, swallowing. “I’m not gonna get one.”

“Huh?” Andy turned to look back at her, raising his eyebrows. “What was that?”

“I’m. Uhm,” Maemi struggled to articulate what she was thinking. She didn’t actually know the word for it in English. It wasn’t something that they talked about in Texas, apparently-- or in general. Back when she was two, and everyone kept calling her a boy all the time and her dad talked about having another man in the house, the only way she could articulate it was,  _ I’m a girl.  _ But maybe that would work for Andy, too, if she just said it. She would have to be a little more specific than that, though. “I’m, a girl, okay? I’m not lying about any of this stuff, I just,” she pulled her legs up to her chest, bending her knees and hugging her legs. “I don’t have, that body. I was born as a boy.”

“Oh.” Andy blinks. “You’re trans?”

  
“Is that what it’s called in English?” Maemi asked, smiling weakly. Andy sighed, running a hand through his hair, and cracked a smile.

“Jeez, kid, you scared me, I thought that you were going to confess to having some horrible disease I’d never heard of that kills your period. Yeah, that’s what it is in English. You can relax, Maemi. That doesn’t change anything.” He pauses. “Well, I guess it changes things a little bit. I was thinking I’d have to buy pads or tampons or something, but I think hormone therapy is a touch more complicated. Doable, for sure-- I doubt you really want to go through puberty like I did-- but complicated. I’ll do some research, and we can talk about it more in the--”

“Andy, wait,” Maemi cut him off, frowning. “You don’t have to-- y’know-- get that stuff for me, that’s not your job, you’re not my dad, and wouldn’t it be… expensive?”

“Forget about all that,” Andy waved a hand, shaking his head. “You’re gonna be here for a while, at least until I can figure out some way to get you back home. While you’re here, I want you to be taken care of. It’s not like I’m giving you some kind of treat. Hormone therapy is something you’re gonna need.” He reached out to mess up her hair. “Don’t take that as me saying I don’t want to give you treats though. You’re a good kid and I think you deserve a couple.”

Maemi laughed, but she thought it might have been more from nerves than much else. “Thank you, Andy-- for not telling me that I’m… y’know.”

(The reason her parents divorced in the first place, why her mom took off and married Ichirou Amami… Maemi had been so young at the time, but she knew that that was why. He was so adamant that he only had  _ one  _ daughter. It never had to be as complicated as he was making it.)

Andy gave her a searching look, then brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Not something you need to thank me for, kid.”

\---

Rantaro is quiet for a long moment, lacing his fingers together like a bridge and resting his chin on them. His brow is furrowed, and has been for the past half hour it’s taken Shuichi to tell him what happened.

They’re back at their hotel room, naturally. Shuichi supposes that Rantaro saw him shaking and decided that they wouldn’t be making any progress on the search for Rui today. He feels guilty about cutting things short, but when they got here Rantaro placed him gently on the bed and wrapped several blankets and the comforter around his shoulder before sitting down in front of him, cupping his face with his warm hands and saying that he could speak whenever he’s ready.

It was difficult to recount. For some reason Shuichi was nervous about even telling him it happened, and the reasons are way too closely related to the conversation that he and Kaede had last night. There’s not a chance in the universe Rantaro is going to give up looking for Kikuko. But that means there’s only one real, plausible course of action he could take from here, and Shuichi… really doesn’t want him to take it. Even if it makes sense for him. (After all, they were threatening  _ Shuichi’s  _ life specifically. Not Rantaro’s.) The silence is heightening his nerves, making him question whether he remembered everything correctly, or whether Rantaro even believes him or not-- a stupid thing to wonder, because Rantaro  _ would  _ believe him, but it’s hard to argue with silence.

Finally, Rantaro says, “We’re going to have to be more careful. I think our mistake was talking to Evans. He probably went straight to his contact with their organisation and told them about us. I should have considered that-- that it would be a risk talking to someone who is potentially in contact with the group. I should’ve acted with more caution in the first place, though, so don’t stress out about it. It’s not your fault, I just wasn’t--”   
  


“Wait, Rantaro,” Shuichi interrupts, and curses how hoarse his voice still is. Rantaro looks up at him, rambling interrupted, and raises his eyebrows. “You’re-- You’re not going to send me back?”

Rantaro looks startled, which makes Shuichi regret asking, but he had to know. Because it seems to him like that’s the  _ obvious  _ solution, to send him back to Japan, because that’s where he’d be safe. Not working on the investigation at all, just back home and… well, doing whatever, he supposes. “Of course not, I-- why, did you  _ want  _ me to send you back?” The fact that Rantaro actually sounds hurt makes Shuichi panic a little bit, sitting up and out of the blankets, shaking his head wildly.

“No, no, I don’t, I just thought-- because--” he doesn’t know how to articulate his thoughts, and now he kind of feels like crying again, which would be really stupid, crying over something like this. He bites his lip. “I just, I figured that you’d… I don’t know.”

“Shuichi,” the hurt disappeared from Rantaro’s expression the second that he saw how panicked Shuichi got; he’s speaking softly now, his brows tilted at the outer edges in concern. “It’s an international group. If your life is being threatened here, in London, then it can be threatened in Japan, too. I’d rather have you here, next to me, where I can protect you with my own two hands,” he reaches out to take Shuichi’s hands, which have been shaking since it happened, and squeezes them. “Than there, where if something happens, I’ll be powerless to stop it.”

It makes sense-- actually, it makes a good  _ deal  _ of sense. Of course being in Japan wouldn’t make him any safer. And it’s stupid to assume that the people who are doing this would leave him alone just because he got off the search. They probably threatened him because they know Rantaro cares about him. If he goes back, it’s not gonna make much of a difference. He’s just letting his… abandonment issues, cloud his judgement. Rantaro is rational. He wouldn’t just send Shuichi back home on a whim.

“Besides, even if that wasn’t the case,” Rantaro shrugs. “You’re an adult, Shu. You’ve been searching with me for ten years, I mean-- after all of that, it would be… really uncool of me, to assume that I have the right to send you back home. And why, just because I’m your boyfriend? You have agency, y’know? You can choose to leave at any time and I’ll support you, but it goes the other way around, too. You’re allowed to choose to stay. If you feel unsafe, and you want to go home, then I’ll get you home. And I won’t be mad at you for that, either.”

“I don’t want to go,” Shuichi says, a bit too quickly. Rantaro’s smile is a bit incredulous. But also a bit sad. “I mean-- I do, feel, uh, u-unsafe, but-- I still don’t… want to leave. I want to keep looking for your sisters with you.”  _ And being by your side, through everything, forever, regardless of what that means. _

Rantaro reaches up and cups the side of Shuichi’s face with a hand, using his thumb to brush away a few tears that somehow managed to escape his eyes. “Okay. If there’s-- if there’s anything I can do to make you feel safe, I-- I’m going to protect you, Shuichi. We’ll have to be really careful from now on, discreet, but-- to the best of my ability, I’m going to make sure that nothing will happen to you. As much as I can.”

“You don’t…” Shuichi pauses, biting his lip. “You don’t need to worry about making me feel safe, you-- you do that just by being here with me.”

“Mm,” Rantaro leans forward, bumping Shuichi’s nose with his own, and the action is so childishly tender that Shuichi laughs, stretching out his hands to find purchase on Rantaro’s sides, looking for some part of him,  _ a  _ part of him, to hold on to. “You have no idea,” he breathes, “how wonderful you are, Shuichi.”

“Ah,” maybe it’s just the fact that Shuichi could’ve died just over an hour ago, but for some reason the remark makes his face warm in a way it hasn’t in almost seven years. He sees Rantaro’s smile, bright and happy as it is, and averts his gaze with a huff. “You cannot be so happy over embarrassing me, it’s rude.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Rantaro says, sounding not at all sorry. Shuichi pouts. “Y’wanna know the real reason why I’m not sending you back to Japan?” When Shuichi meets his gaze again, curious, he continues, “It’s because I’m selfish, and I want you to be here with me.”

“I love you,” Shuichi responds automatically, tilting his face forward so they touch foreheads.

“And that begs the question of what I did to deserve that,” Rantaro smiles, a rugged but lovely smile as he mouths the sentiment in return, and Shuichi thinks,  _ so many things, I couldn’t possibly list them all,  _ but what he focuses on is the warmth of Rantaro’s arms when they tuck around him, pulling him in close. Rantaro makes him feel safe. Even after what just happened, he… he thinks he’ll be okay.

\---

When Maemi turned fourteen, Andy let her get a job at the movie theatre in the town. He didn’t ask her to use her money for anything, though-- “What would I ask you to pay, the bills? Forget about it, it’s not like you’re particularly expensive,”-- so over time, it was relatively easy to save up. When she turned sixteen, a quick Google search of her family name told her that her family was going as it had always been. And from the pictures of them, all of her sisters had gotten lost. The only photos that existed of her siblings online were of Rantaro. Which wasn’t exactly surprising to her, at the rate that things were going when she got lost, but…

Even so, it was sad scrolling through all those pictures of Rantaro and seeing how sad he looked. He graduated high school a year ago-- apparently he went to this super fancy, prestigious academy called Hope’s Peak-- and reading articles about him, Maemi was suddenly insanely grateful to her eight year old self, that she’d thought to write all that stuff down, and refrained from forgetting Japanese, and all that important information about her family.

What Maemi wanted to do was use the money she was saving to buy a plane ticket. The issue was, she didn’t know what she’d do once she flew in. Where would she even fly? Japan? Would she just find the Amami residence via the use of Google Maps? It didn’t seem reasonable to her. Besides, the person who she  _ really  _ wanted to see was Rantaro, and apparently he was going all over the place. She had to find some way to find him. Because there was no way he’d find her in Texas. He probably still thought she got lost in Mexico City. He’d have no luck looking for her there.

Maemi was running over all of this in her head as she swept the floor at the theatre. She’d been working there for three years by then, having turned seventeen recently, and she had… a good deal of money. She wasn’t sure that leaving was a good idea yet, though. She hadn’t finished high school, and if she wanted to go on a plane then she needed like… a passport. It was something she and Andy had talked about, her becoming an American citizen, but they hadn’t really  _ talked  _ talked about it. She would probably have to do so, though. And that could take years. Ugh.

She rested the broom against the corner of the room, bending over to pick up the dustpan and moving over to the garbage to dump it out. A coworker of hers, Paige was her name, probably (Maemi was kind of bad with names) was scrolling on her phone, her brow furrowed. Maemi glanced at her for a moment before starting to walk away. Not her business.

“Hey, Maemi,” Paige called out, effectively wrecking these plans. “Your dad is running for reelection, right? As sheriff?”

Well, Andy wasn’t her dad, but to a white person, Maemi figured any two Asian people with dark skin (Andy was Filipino) would probably look about the same. “Yeah, he is,” she replied, turning around to meet Paige’s gaze. “What of it? That’s kind of old news, isn’t it?”

“Well, an article just came out-- I haven’t gotten to the part where they gave any real good information, yet, but I guess there was a murder down at the station, of a candidate for-- hey, Maemi, wait!”

The reason Paige exclaimed that was likely because Maemi threw off her apron and took off running through the lobby at the word  _ murder, _ disregarding the rest of what Paige was saying in favour of throwing open the door and tearing in the direction of the station. Those articles were written and posted and updated in real time, but Maemi had also been at work for several hours already by then. The body could’ve been found ages ago. She saw Andy that morning as she headed out to the theatre, but other than that, he said he’d be at the station all day, and--

She nearly crashed into someone when she arrived at the station, mindlessly reaching for the door, but they caught her shoulders and steadied her, holding her on her feet.

“Woah, kid,” Andy said, alarmed. “What’s the hurry to get in on the crime scene?”

“Oh my god,” Maemi burst out in reply. She deemed verifying that he was really there, alive, and not some corpse inside the office, more important than answer his question, and threw her arms around his torso. Andy stumbled a little, perhaps surprised by the sudden hug, but rested a hand on her upper back, gently reciprocating as he steered them out of the path of the door.

“You okay? Did something happen to you at work?”

“No, I thought--” Maemi pulled back, wiping at her eyes to make sure she wouldn’t start crying. “My-- coworker found an article about this, I thought the dead person was  _ you,”  _ she inhaled, and Andy sighed, a rare annoyed look appearing on his face.

“Yeah, the news will get you with their vague headlines. I guess you’re too quick on your feet to sit around and wait for someone to read an article aloud to you, huh?” He rested a hand on top of her head. “I’m fine. It was one of my opponents who got killed, actually.”

“Not Kyle,” Maemi frowned.

“No, Kyle’s fine,” Andy rubbed his eyes with the hand that wasn’t resting on her head, shaking his own. “I bet he’s wishing he never joined the race for Sheriff, though, which is going to suck for him when I drop out in a couple of days-- can you believe that someone would actually kill over something like this? A sheriff election in a small town like McAllen… “

“Drop out?” Maemi echoed. She decided, for the moment, to ignore the merit in Andy’s words… why  _ would  _ someone go to the trouble of killing off their opponents in a race for Sheriff? It didn’t matter that much, did it? But it must have mattered quite a lot to  _ somebody,  _ or else they wouldn’t have bothered. “Why are you gonna drop out? You’re a good sheriff.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Andy smiled wryly. “But if this is going to be the result of the election, then frankly I’d rather not be involved. I wasn’t even going to run this term, but too many people asked me to go for one last go at it. It feels wrong to keep going like this when my largest competitor just got murdered. Plus, I don’t like the look of the crime scene. It’s a really professional job-- not that you’d know anything about professional assassinations, of course, and I’ll thank you to maintain a safe distance from the subject-- but what strikes me as unsettling is the fact that the killer left a mark.”

“What mark?” Maemi crossed her arms over her chest. “Like the kind of thing a serial killer would do?”

“That’s right,” Andy nodded. “A white flower. I’m no expert, but it looked like a chrysanthemum.”

“Oh,” Maemi bit her lip. “I guess it wouldn’t have the same meaning here, but in Japanese culture, white chrysanthemums are… a funeral flower. My youngest sister, Kikuko-- she was named after chrysanthemums. The white ones were her favourite.”

“I’m sorry that you have that association now,” Andy frowned. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“It’s okay,” Maemi responded, shaking her head quickly. “Were you the one who found the body?”

“No, that was ‘Ranza,” Andy sighed, a disconcerted look settling in on his face. “I should go back in and check on her. People’ve been questioning her left and right for the last hour or so. She’s strong, but still, that’ll be a lot for anyone to cope with.”

“Yeah, go check on her,” Maemi nodded fervently. “Go get your girl.”

Andy rolled his eyes, nudging her shoulder. “Back to work with you, we can talk about it more over dinner. I’ll pick you up when your shift is over, okay? Don’t walk home alone. I’m sure you’re safe, but still, we don’t want to take any chances.”

“Mhm.” Maemi paused, watching him open the door, and then blurted, “I’m glad it wasn’t you, Andy.”

He looks over his shoulder, offering her a tired smile. “Me, too, kid.”

\---

Shuichi wakes up around seven in the afternoon, comfortable and warm but also disjointed; the way he always feels when he sleeps during the day. He shifts a bit, slowly coming to be aware of where he is (still in their hotel room) and how he’s lying (sprawled across Rantaro’s lap like some kind of glorified kitten) and the fact that it’s dark outside. Also, Rantaro is sitting up, his back resting against the headboard. When Shuichi shifts to look at him, he sees that he’s awake, and reading a book.

“Morning,” Rantaro smiles, reaching out to brush Shuichi’s hair out of his face. “Sleep better this time around?”

“Uhm, yes, but,” Shuichi sits up, running a hand through his hair as though that’ll tidy it. “Why did you let me sleep? We could’ve been out looking for Rui.”

“Sure, we could’ve,” Rantaro shrugs. “But I mean, it’s not every day you get a gun held up against your head. I think you earned a little rest. We’ll have time to look after the ceremony tomorrow. I’m not taking any objections, by the way,” he adds, lowering his book down onto the bed and reaching out to take Shuichi’s hand. Rantaro’s hands are always so warm, calloused and rough from years of pulling ropes on his boat and going on adventures, but soft at the same time, familiar and comforting around his own.

“Mm,” Shuichi looks at him for a moment but decides to just let it go. Rantaro’s smile is touching his eyes, real and full and warm, and despite the rest he just took Shuichi doesn’t have the energy to analyse whether or not he means it, or if he’s just getting better at pretending. “Okay,” he says after a moment, and when Rantaro shifts an arm around his shoulders, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek, he accepts it, closing his eyes for a second.

“Are you hungry? We can go find a restaurant, or order room service. I know you hate the food over here-- trust me, me too, nothing can beat the cuisine in Paris-- but you should still eat something.” Rantaro pokes out his tongue. “Your aunt had a point when she went off about how skinny you are, y’know?”

“Which time?” Shuichi sighs, leaning into Rantaro’s arm in his exasperation. (He feels Rantaro’s smile when he nuzzles into Shuichi’s neck, resting his face there for a moment. “You’d think I starve myself or something, the way Aunt Mei is always talking whenever I come over to visit. I know she’s like that with everybody,” he remembers with great fondness the way she mother henned Kokichi the time he came for dinner, it was a really warm exchange that he won’t be forgetting anytime soon, “but it’s so embarrassing. Especially when you agree with her?”

“Did you want me to lie?” Rantaro is smiling way too broadly for this to be a real question. “Room service or restaurant, Shu?”

“Ah, right, uhm…” Shuichi hesitates. “Can we do room service? It’ll be fine tomorrow, I just, right now I don’t really want to go…”  _ outside. On the streets, where they could be waiting, where they could see us again. _

“Of course,” Rantaro says, much more softly than he’s said anything else since Shuichi woke up. “Go take a shower, I’ll order us food while you’re washing up, okay? Anything you’re in the mood for?”

“Mm, not particularly. You can order for me.” Shuichi slides out of the bed, stretching his arms over his head for a moment before he moves towards his luggage to find his designated pajamas. “Thank you,” he adds, looking up to meet his boyfriend’s gaze. Rantaro, who was looking over the menu they have resting on their nightstand, comes to attention, his brows just slightly quirked, and smiles softly.

“Mhm. Anything you need, baby.” He doesn’t bring out the pet names a lot. It makes Shuichi smile whenever he does it, though. He’s really the lucky one, in this relationship.

\---

It took just over a year for Maemi to become a citizen of the United States. It was a tedious process, mainly because she wasn’t actually planning on  _ living  _ in America, but it was also a necessary thing. Annoying that she had to wait until she was eighteen to apply, because by the time she  _ had  _ the citizenship she was nineteen, but it had to do. After five years of spending pretty much all her spare time working, she had a good amount of money saved up. If she was going to be traveling around the world and looking for her family, though, she had to be smart with how she spent it. Because as much as the tens thousands of dollars she’d amassed over the years looked impressive whenever she went into her bank account, she figured she could blow through it all fairly quickly.

The guidance counselor at her high school in McAllen took her to the side before graduation, asking her if she’d applied to any colleges, or if she had any plans for her future at all. It was a fair question, Maemi supposed-- except that she had absolutely  _ no  _ desire to get involved in the American rush to secondary education. She was fine, thanks. It felt like a lot of money to spend on a piece of paper. She was alright with middle and high school because they were compulsory, and going to a public school meant they were also free. But college? What would she even  _ do  _ with a college degree? She didn’t have any plans for the future beyond finding her brother and her sisters and going back to Japan to her family. College and work could come after that.

Plus, she was so bored of McAllen. Over the years, whenever she wasn’t working, she was exploring the place. It was such a small town. She was familiar with every hiding place, every single person and every single inside joke, all the alleyways and the homeless people and the grocery stores. She knew their weird customs and their stories, and if she wanted to she could probably figure out all the gossip, too, all the things they whispered about and the lies they told. She  _ didn’t,  _ though. People were fascinating but Maemi preferred to admire them from a distance. She felt like she was stagnating, being in one place for so long. She was ready to get the hell out of there.

Her main issue was… well, obviously, it was Andy. There was no expectation for her to stay-- Andy never talked about college or asked her what she was saving her money for; it was implied, after all, that she’d use it to go home-- but she’d been there for so long, it felt… well, it felt wrong to just leave. Especially after everything he had done for her. He and Esperanza had finally started to go out on dates, and it was a lot more slowgoing than Maemi would have liked, but Andy was a patient person, the kind who took things into moderation. And she wanted-- well, she didn’t want to leave  _ him.  _ But she knew he’d be staying in McAllen, because that was where his life was. Unlike Maemi, he cared about community. He wanted to build something permanent, maintain and take care of the relationships he had. He had no desire to see the world.

Still, she had to go. She’d known since she was eight years old that if anybody was going to be finding anybody, it would be her doing the looking. Even if someone somehow managed to figure out that she wasn’t in Mexico City anymore, McAllen was so small. And Maemi wasn’t the waiting type. She thought maybe she’d go to Mexico first, revisit the place where she got lost and retrace her steps. After that she’d go to the Philippines, to Puerto Princesa, walk along the trail where Kikuko was lost. Then to New York City, peek around for hints of blue hair, and London, for… for Rui, who  _ was  _ the waiting type, would would have been waiting to be saved all these years. Yeah.

Rantaro was an adult already. Maemi was nineteen, which made him twenty three. She had to wonder where it was that he could have ended up. The news was mostly quiet about him these days, unless to report on some business deal or trade he made for his father’s company. She wanted… to see him. But it was impossible to figure out where he might be without some kind of a lead.

It was early autumn again, just after the halfway point between nineteen and twenty, when Maemi finally sat down across from Andy on the couch, lacing her fingers together in her lap and figuring how to articulate what she wanted to tell him. He wasn’t going to break the silence for her, even though that might’ve been easier. He was always the type to honour what other people had to say to him, rather than filling a conversation by himself.

“So,” Maemi began, and thought,  _ nice start, Nakamura.  _ She cleared her throat. “I want to find my brother.”

“Your brother,” Andy hummed, like he was thinking. “Rantaro, right? Your step-brother, the one with the green hair.”

(Because after a while, Maemi  _ did  _ end up telling him about her family. Not all at once, and never very much, but Andy remembered. Of course he did.) “Yeah, that’s him,” Maemi agreed, nodding. “I know he’s looking for me. And for my other sisters. But he’s not going to find me. He probably still thinks that I’m in Mexico City.” She told Andy about that, too, a little bit. Not all the details-- she couldn’t stomach telling him about how cold it had been in that man’s basement-- but enough that he understood.

“Right,” Andy nodded. “Okay. You’re an adult now. You’ve always been the responsible type. Does this entail flying around the world and looking until you find him?”

“Uhm,” Maemi hesitated, wondering how to answer. “Yeah. Yes. That’s exactly what this entails. I have a lot of money saved, so you don’t have to help me in any way-- and I’ll come back to visit once in a while, make sure that you’re not fumbling your relationship with Esperanza, y’know, just in case--” Andy smiled. “So, this isn’t like, me saying that I don’t want to be here anymore, I just… I want to go other places, and I need to find my family.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, kiddo,” Andy said, and Maemi felt her lips twitch. She wasn’t a kid anymore, but he wasn’t going to stop calling her that in a hurry, she assumed. “I get it. McAllen isn’t exactly a big city, and you’re the big city type.”

“Not just the big city,” Maemi replies, shaking her head quickly. “I want to go-- all over the place. I want to go where there aren’t any lights, and I can see the whole milky way galaxy over my head. I want to meet all different kinds of people, more who look like me and more who don’t, and I want to explore Japan, too, because I used to be so bored of it when I was little but now all I can remember of it comes from journal entries from when I was eight.” She can hardly read her own handwriting nowadays. It had been an act of desperation back then. “I need to find my family first, though. I miss my mom,” she considered it. “And my sisters.”

And in a couple of weeks, when she left… she was going to miss Andy, too.

“I want to-- to find some way to thank you for all you’ve done for me for the past eleven years. I can’t-- I can’t even fathom the kind of compassion it takes to, to do all of this,” she gestured vaguely at herself and all the bits and pieces around Andy’s apartment that had appeared over the years, symbols of her presence. Things that would not have been there without her living here. “And I--” she always hated saying the words  _ I love you,  _ ever since she was little. They just didn’t flow well. Speaking was never Maemi’s favourite brand of communication. She floundered a little bit.

“Maemi,” Andy reached out to touch her hand. His eyes (a comforting, familiar shade of brown) told her that he understood what she was trying to say, and what she couldn’t. “You don’t have to thank me. Your presence in this apartment has definitely made my life… fuller,” he smiled. “But now yours is leading you elsewhere. You should hear the way you talk about exploring. What you need is to get out of McAllen and find your destiny, or whatever they say. But yeah,” he chuckled. “Come back and visit me sometime. ‘Ranza’s gonna get tired of spending all this time alone with me eventually.”

Maemi started to laugh, to detract from the wetness pooling in her eyes, and pushed herself forward for a hug. Andy smelled like campfire smoke and aftershave, the fundamental ingredients for a home. Maybe  _ once in a while  _ would be a little bit more frequent than she thought. Sure she didn’t have all that much care for McAllen, but for Andy? Yeah.

\---

Shuichi tucks his scarf a bit more tightly around his neck, pressing in closer to Rantaro in an attempt to stay warm. It’s so windy out-- kind of not the best day for an opening ceremony for a school, but hey. It’s not like they chose today as the date knowing the weather.

It’s late September now, almost a month after the school year has already started at most schools in London. Due to the fact that this Hope’s Peak Academy took some time to get built and put in place, though, their term is starting today. It’s a Monday, which is nice-- school starting on a Tuesday or a Wednesday has always been somewhat infuriating to Shuichi. Things that begin on Mondays have a crisp, sharp feel to them. It just makes a good deal of sense. Of course, Hope’s Peak being a boarding school, perhaps the specifics don’t matter.

The students will have already moved in on Saturday, too. It’s just today that they’re holding the opening ceremony before all the kids go to their classes for the first time. They won’t be doing this every year. But the new Headmaster wanted to do something special for their very first class of Ultimates.

“I hear there’s an Ultimate Detective in this class,” Rantaro mutters, nudging Shuichi with his elbow. Shuichi appreciates the attempt at conversation, since Rantaro is probably faring even worse than he is, being so naturally warm. “Maybe you should meet them and have a conversation.”

“Ah, that might kill me,” Shuichi hums. “Or them. Even if this detective is much better than I was at their age-- which I don’t doubt-- it’ll still be intimidating talking to the twenty-five-year-old alumni of the  _ original  _ Hope’s Peak Academy. I wouldn’t want to scare them, you know?”

“I doubt you could be scary if you tried,” Rantaro grins, and Shuichi huffs, but the remark reassures him regardless, which is insufferable. Rantaro is insufferable, actually, and pretty too. Bastard. Shuichi slips his arm out from where it’s tucked into Rantaro’s and reaches up with both hands, tucking his (frigid) fingers underneath Rantaro’s scarf to get at the sensitive parts of his neck. “Ah! Hey--” Rantaro jolts away, nearly bumping into a couple people in his attempts to protect himself from the sudden attack. “That was uncalled for!” He complains, pouting.

“Hmm,” Shuichi smiles, unapologetic, laughing to himself at the indignant look on Rantaro’s face.

“Well, now I don’t know if I want to hold your arm anymore,” Rantaro juts out his lower lip in an expression  _ very  _ reminiscent of Kokichi’s (which makes sense; he was spending time with the guy right before they left for Paris) and maintains a wary distance away from Shuichi when they start walking again.

“Wait, no,” Shuichi protests, reaching out for him and pouting himself when Rantaro dodges his arm. “You’re a human stove, I need to mooch off of your warmth in these trying times,” he sniffles. “Rantarooo, please, I’ll freeze to death.” To emphasise his point, he makes the best puppy-dog-eyes expression he can manage, fluttering his eyelashes up at Rantaro.

“Drama queen,” Rantaro grumbles. He allows Shuichi to take his arm again regardless, sighing when his boyfriend hums gleefully. “Try assaulting my neck again and see where it gets you. Next time I won’t be so forgiving.”

“Maybe,” Shuichi says, beaming and popping up onto his toes to kiss Rantaro on the cheek. It gets a smile out of him, an awfully warm one in fact, that feels out of place in the brisk weather but makes Shuichi’s heart feel gooey nonetheless. “I still think you’re too softhearted to hold grudges, though.”

“Yeah, because I love you,” Rantaro huffs. “You’ve never been on the receiving end of one of my cold shoulders. I can be really mean when I want to. Hey, it’s true!” Rantaro protests especially loudly when Shuichi starts to laugh, nudging him with his shoulder. “You brat! I ought to--”

A yell from behind them cuts Rantaro off. The first time it’s a bit difficult to understand, but the second time they hear it-- “RANTARO!”-- Shuichi and Rantaro exchange a look before turning around. Rantaro’s brow is furrowed in confusion, and Shuichi shifts forward a bit, squinting through the crowds of people to figure out who’s yelling. It’s a woman’s voice, one he doesn’t recognise, but she pronounces Rantaro’s name like a native Japanese speaker, and--

Shuichi sees a flash of maroon hair bobbing through the crowd, and then a blur of a young woman breaks out of it, and he hears Rantaro’s voice when he exclaims, utterly surprised, “Maemi?” before she throws herself at him and they both go crashing down into the concrete.

\---

Maemi was in her hotel room in Ho Chi Minh City when she finally found a good lead.

She was able to get pretty good guesses as to where the rest of her sisters got lost by tracking her family’s trips through the years between when she got lost and when Rantaro started to attend Hope’s Peak Academy. They went to Germany, France, and Spain, Bermuda and San Francisco, Italy and Australia and Vietnam. She wasn’t sure who had gotten lost where, but with her step-father’s track record and considering the fact that  _ none  _ of her sisters ever, not once, made the news? They had to have been lost in those places. It was difficult to pinpoint where exactly to go, so while Maemi was combing the locations up and down, she was starting with the capitals. That meant Saigon, as far as Vietnam was concerned.

And Vietnam was  _ wonderful,  _ with all the lights and the people. Her plane flew over the rice fields, and they were absolutely stunning; many of them having art done in the planting and with the wind rippling through the grains. The water was clear and blue outside of the city, and she liked the music a lot too. Maemi had a great deal of appreciation for most places, in fact, but Vietnam was one of her favourites. She thought that after she figured out all that she needed to do, she would come back here and explore some more. But she would never stay in one place for too long. That would get exhausting.

It was getting near midnight by the time she returned to her hotel room on her second day there. She’d been traveling the world for the past two years, chasing down ghosts of leads, rumours of people who might’ve been where she was at one point or another, asking around, learning bits and pieces of other languages and cultures. She had a routine to it, which made it easier to get by. Maemi had been hoping to hop on Skype with Andy tonight, but he wouldn’t answer her call if he knew it was so late for her, so she decided to put it off until tomorrow. There’d be plenty of time.

As always, after showering and getting into bed, she took out her phone to read some articles. She browsed through several boring, irrelevant pieces of news, but one caught her eye, about Hope’s Peak Academy. Only, it wasn’t about the Hope’s Peak Academy her brother attended, but one that would be opening in London. Tomorrow, in fact, it would be opening-- though, due to the time difference between Saigon and London, it would actually be opening seventeen hours in the future, at ten o’clock over there.

What caught her eye about it, specifically, was that… well, it said that loads of alumni from the Hope’s Peak Academy in  _ Japan  _ were flying in to attend, and listed a bunch of names of people who were rumoured to be making an appearance… Maemi scanned the list, her heart pounding, and--

There! Rantaro Amami! But a flight to London would take sixteen hours, she wasn’t sure that she’d get there in time to catch him… well, surely he wouldn’t be leaving right after the ceremony, right? Even just knowing that he was in London, Maemi… was sure, she could find him. She’d been living on her own for two years but it had been a long time since she’d truly trusted her intuition the way that she did when she was eight. How could she? She talked herself into doing something on her own back then and ended up getting kidnapped. But this was the best chance she’d had in ages. Rantaro would  _ be  _ there. And if he wouldn’t, if these were truly just rumours, then at the very least she’d be able to talk to someone who went to high school with him. Maybe they’ll have kept in touch.

Yup. No doubting herself, there was no time for that. Maemi booked herself a flight to London and leapt out of bed, packing in a rush to get herself down to the airport. She was going to find him. She knew it.

\---

Shuichi jolts when Rantaro and Maemi(?) crash down to the ground, but it is evident that Maemi didn’t mean to knock him over, because the second that they go down, she jolts back, scrambling off of him.

“Jeez, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tackle you, I just--”

“Hey,” Rantaro cuts her off, smoothly, as he sits up. He’s wincing a bit, rubbing the back of his head with a hand, but smiling awkwardly, reaching out to rest his other hand on Maemi’s shoulder. “Relax, I’m fine,” he pauses. “Uhm, what-- how are you in-- how did you--?”

“It’s a long story and I don’t think a London street corner is the best place to tell it,” Maemi says, looking off to the side. She’s Tsubaki’s younger sister, and Shuichi can’t help thinking that they look awfully similar; not just in face shape but in hair colour and style. Maemi has a scarf tucked around her neck and a large jacket on, as though to shield herself from the cold. “But I’ve been looking for you. For everybody, actually-- everyone else got lost, right? Not just Aki and Rui and Kikuko-- I wasn’t in Mexico City, haven’t been since the day I was lost, we can talk about that if you want, but I--”

“Are you okay?” Rantaro laughs quietly, a sad, slightly worried sound, when he shifts his hand to brush the side of his sister’s face. “You seem-- tired.”

“Yeah, well,” Maemi lifts her face, bucking her fringe from her eyes, and gives Rantaro a crooked smile. “I could probably ask you the same question, but nevermind,” her smile shifts into a grin when Rantaro scoffs, probably proud of her deflection. Shuichi watches her shifting on the concrete, probably contemplating getting to her feet, but her hands twitch, too, as though she’d like to go in for a real hug. Rantaro notices (because even if Rantaro isn’t the detective, between the two of them, he always notices things when it comes to his sisters) and without waiting to be prompted, he reaches out to pull her into an embrace.

“Figures that you’d be the one to find me,” he mutters, and Shuichi chooses that moment to avert his gaze. It’s not his place to be listening in. He’ll talk to Maemi later, introduce himself and hear her story, but for now, this moment belongs to them.

\---

Rantaro offered to dip on the opening ceremony and take her to coffee, but Maemi refused. She wanted to go see it, actually; she’d spent so many years reading about Hope’s Peak Academy and stalking any piece of information she could get her hands on about it in the hopes of a mention of her brother, she wanted to see it in person. Even if it wasn’t the Hope’s Peak she’d been reading about. No matter. She was going to go back to Japan soon anyway, and she’d get to see it then.

(And after that, any number of things. Whatever she wanted to, she supposed.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to have at least one of rantaro's sisters find him instead. switch things up on you.
> 
> andy is such a HIMBO i didn't mean for it to be this way but heyy
> 
> maemi is one of my favourites because she's so headstrong ksjfkljf we love a girl who has no impulse control
> 
> maemi: Sh-- shiny thing???? [gets kidnapped]
> 
> anyway jdskfj this chapter is so long ghhh it's fine it's Fine we stan her it's what she deserves
> 
> (at this rate the kikuko chapter is gonna be 30k or something i think i'd actually, literally die)
> 
> uwu hope you enjoyed this update, see y'all in a month lol


	7. Kei Hagiwara Amami

After Mina was lost in San Francisco, Kei and Rantaro made a plan. They would go back to Japan for a week to get clean clothes and pictures of all their other sisters, and then they would catch a flight straight to New York City. They were going to comb every single alleyway in the area where Aki got lost, weaving up and down the streets around Central Park. Kei didn’t think she’d be  _ there--  _ wherever she ended up, it was far away from where Kei broke her arm all those years ago. But it was the place to start. They didn’t want to get ahead of themselves and do a lot of guesswork only to find out years later that Aki was exactly where they lost her. They wanted to go to New York first, because it was second on their list of places where they lost a sister, and unlike Puerto Princesa NYC was a city. Easy to navigate.

And, also, because Kei wanted… to find her twin. She cared about all of her sisters, loved them, ached in their absence, but Aki was… her other half. Her older, more responsible half, but her half nonetheless. And it was Kei’s fault that she got lost. Rantaro didn’t think so (he more blamed himself for those kinds of things, even though there was literally nothing that he could’ve done) but Kei knew the reality of the situation. She and Aki both chose to sneak out but Kei was the one who broke her arm. It was her fault that Aki ended up running off. She was trying to get help. The fact that Kei could hardly use her right arm anymore, couldn’t bend her fingers all the way and had to reteach herself to write with her left-- well, that was just, karma, wasn’t it? Especially because Aki was still gone.

Rantaro raised no arguments about going to New York City. He was very… professional about it, honestly. About their traveling. They would be traveling alone, without their parents, for the very first time. Kei’s mother was against it, actually. But Rantaro could be persuasive when he wanted to do. Forget that Kei’s step-father was biased to his only son; everyone kind of felt  _ bad  _ for Rantaro, knowing how much he blamed himself for every little thing. Kei knew that Aki’s loss was her fault and her fault alone but that was how Rantaro felt about all the losses. It was an impossible amount of weight for any one person to be carrying. So if their parents were a little bit indulgent from time to time-- that was understandable. At least in Kei’s opinion.

The day before they were to leave, though, Rantaro’s father came into their room, where they were going over their packing list one more time (they would be arriving in New York the day before Kei’s birthday, the autumn equinox) and leaned against the door frame. Rantaro didn’t notice immediately, too absorbed in his task to care, but Kei looked up, noting the expectant look on his face and the crossing of his arms over his chest.

“Uhm,” Kei still felt weird calling him  _ dad--  _ it was a silly hold-up to have because she’d been living with the man for so long, but when she looked at him usually she just saw… a guy. A man. Not a particularly nice man, either. Accommodating at best. Distant at worst. “Hi,” she said, and then Rantaro did look up, a casual smile spreading across his face when he met his father’s gaze, his brows relaxing from the furrowed position they sat in a moment earlier.

“What’s up, Dad?” he asked, ever casual. His hands stilled over their luggage but only momentarily. “Did you need something?”

“I need you two to fly in to make a stop at Canberra before you fly to New York,” Amami said, without any pretense. Canberra? Kei had never been. She wasn’t even entirely sure where it was-- some city in America, perhaps? But Rantaro’s expression tightened, and immediately she realised that it wasn’t anywhere near where they were going.

“Australia?” Rantaro asked incredulously. “Dad, we’re going to America-- that’s all the way across the world!”

“You’re taking a trip, anyway. You’re not coming back here after New York, right? You’re going across the country to California. You two will be going all over the place anyway.” His expression was equally severe, but his eyes were always so much more intense than Rantaro’s. When Rantaro was upset he tended to drop his gaze. His disappointment hurt a lot more than his anger-- if only because he didn’t get angry very often and it wasn’t all that bad when he did. But Rantaro’s father was like him if he was a mean old businessman. His eyebrows were permanently settled into a displeased position. Kei never said it aloud, but he put her on edge. Businessmen tended to do so, but her step-father especially. “I have a business associate who’d like to make a deal with me, but I don’t have the time this next week to fly out.”

“But…” Kei trailed off. She didn’t want to make much of an objection, but the thought of going to Australia, a whole new continent, when she was supposed to be looking for her sister, made her feel a bit nauseous. “But we’re looking for Aki, can’t we-- can’t we go after?”

“I wouldn’t ask if there wasn’t urgency. It’ll just be for a week. A one-time thing. I’ll be flying the two of you out, anyway.” What he didn’t say was that he was paying for all the  _ other  _ trips, too-- but the way Rantaro’s shoulders squared themselves, Kei knew he picked up on the undertone. It was almost a threat. She tried to stop herself from frowning, for the sake of not making her step-father upset, but she heard the edge in her brother’s voice when he replied.

“Sure, okay,” he sighed. “Canberra tomorrow, then. We might have to pack a bit more clothes,” he glanced over at Kei before looking back to his father, cracking a crooked smile. “I’ve never been to Australia before. Maybe it’ll be fun.”

“I’m sure it will,” Kei’s step-father smiled tightly, nodding at them before turning and walking out the door. It was like he was interacting with one of his employees, not his own children. Kei felt her chest tightening in the stuffy, uncomfortable way it did whenever she got angry. He was right that he was the one paying for their plane tickets, so they should be going where he said, but the fact of the matter was--

It was his daughter! His step-daughter, sure, but his  _ daughter.  _ They were going around the world to find all of  _ his  _ children, not asking for any support aside from financial, and he had the audacity to act like he was doing them some huge favour. Kei pressed her lips together, trying not to say anything snarky or mean because she knew that Rantaro would just chastise her for it, but she couldn’t help the burning in her throat or the prickling at the corners of her eyes. She was always an angry crier. She really hated crying, actually. It made her feel vulnerable and that wasn’t the greatest feeling. But she was also bad at holding things back.

“Well,” Rantaro said evenly. When she looked at him, his expression was slightly chagrined but for the most part unbothered. Whether he really felt that way, or he was putting on a mask, Kei couldn’t determine. “At least we won’t have to learn any new languages. I guess Australians have some slang we’ll probably be unfamiliar with but hopefully Dad’s business associate will be patient with a couple of cultural misunderst--”

“Why aren’t you mad?” Kei’s voice came out a little more snappish than she meant for it to. Rantaro’s eyebrows raised placidly and she bit the inside of her cheek, averting her gaze. “He’s acting like he’s doing us some kind of favour and we just have to do what he says-- and he does this all the time but you  _ never  _ get mad at him.”

“He  _ is  _ doing us a favour,” Rantaro replied gently.

“Not really!” Kei huffed. “He won’t even notice the money that we’re spending on our trip. Besides, he’s the one who decided to leave all of his daughters behind. It’s his fault that most of them are gone.” Rantaro frowned at her and she forged on, before he could contradict her (like he always did). “You just put up with it, it’s not fair.” It was something that Maemi used to complain about. How Rantaro used to have more of a drive for adventure but he didn’t anymore. Back before she was lost in Mexico City. Kei felt a bit guilty throwing that in his face-- it wasn’t his fault, he already took responsibility for everything as the eldest and so he probably felt obligated to here, too-- but she couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like she could go and yell at her step-dad, after all.

“Kei,” Rantaro started, his brows pinching together. “I--”

“Whatever,” she got to her feet, stepping over their suitcases and walking to the door. “I’m gonna grab more clothes from my room. Since we’re making a detour.” She saw Rantaro’s expression crumpling behind her but she didn’t turn back around. It was easier to ignore her guilt at lashing out at him than to try to smooth things over. The last thing she wanted to do was start crying, and make him comfort her.

As soon as they left Canberra, it was straight to New York City. It had to be. Kei slammed her bedroom door behind her when she arrived, letting out a hot breath of air and wiping tears from her eyes. She would find her twin, regardless of the delays.

\---

Rantaro closes the door of Jack’s car carefully, so as not to slam it, and slings his backpack over his shoulder. The weather is nice today. The sun is shining overhead (a rare thing in late October and Rantaro really wants to take advantage of it) and the air is crisp. Kind of a shame that they’ll be spending all of it on an airplane. But the weather down in Canberra is nice this time of year, too. Shuichi walks around from the other side of the car and reaches out a hand, wiggling his fingers, so Rantaro releases a laugh and takes it. He got a new backpack recently since his old one was starting to tear apart at the seams. It’s a dark grey, which Rantaro thinks is something of an improvement, considering that Shuichi’s last one was jet black.

“Y’know,” Jack opens the trunk, his brow furrowing. “It all seemed very straightforward to me last night, but now that I’m seeing your brother’s luggage, I’m starting to think you might have overpacked,” he looks up at Aki, frowning. “You’re only going to be in Canberra for a week, isn’t two suitcases a bit much?”

“I’m a woman, Jack,” Aki rolls her eyes, lifting one of her suitcases from the trunk and extending the handle. “I have more materialistic needs than Rantaro does. He’d wear the same shirt for a month if he had some way of washing it.”

“The same three shirts,” Shuichi corrects with a smile.

“Okay, okay,” Rantaro bumps his boyfriend with his shoulder, feeling his face warm just the slightest bit at the teasing. “I get it, I’m under attack for being gay and liking camping. It’s not a big deal,” he adds, addressing Jack, “we’ll just be calling a car and heading straight to the hotel.” The plan is usually that they walk to the hotel from the airport, on account of the fact that Rantaro doesn’t like cars (even driving in Jack’s to get here was uncomfortable) but since it’s Aki’s first time traveling since New York he figures he might as well try to make her as comfortable as possible.

(She probably would’ve been fine walking, actually. Aki’s hearty. But Rantaro only got her back three years ago and he’s not taking any chances with losing her again. There’s no way that that’ll happen in a car. Walking on the sidewalk though, and weighed down by suitcases… he just wants to err on the side of caution is all. Even if Shuichi raised his eyebrows at him when he suggested it.)

“I wish I could come with you,” Jack sighs, leaning against the car as Aki removes her second bag. “It’ll be my first time in Japan without you,” he looks at Aki when he says it so Rantaro looks away, figuring he shouldn’t eavesdrop on his younger sister’s conversation with her boyfriend.

“You have training with JAXA,” Aki says firmly, letting go of her suitcases for a moment to smooth out the lapel of Jack’s coat. “I get it. Couples should spend some time apart once in a while! It’s healthy,” she smiles, and Rantaro very decisively keeps his gaze averted when she leans in to kiss him. He understands Jack’s hesitation. They’ve been together practically every day since Aki got lost in New York thirteen years ago. With that kind of relationship, and getting along as well as they do, spending even a week apart probably sounds unbearable. But they have a strong bond and good communication. It’ll probably be fine.

“Hmm,” Shuichi squeezes his hand, smiling awkwardly. “Please tell me you’re not the only person who feels a bit weird about yourself right now.”   
  


“Believe me, if I wanted to watch my younger sister making out, I’d invite them to stay with us,” Rantaro chuckles, rolling his eyes, and feels himself grin when Aki turns to pout at them.

“You’re going to have to indulge me,” she huffs. “Because I’m gonna have to put up with a weak of  _ this,”  _ she gestures loosely at their linked hands. “Without Jack around to be my buffer.”  _ Or Kei,  _ Rantaro thinks, but the thought is kind of depressing so he shuts it out. It’s been a decade since Kei was lost. Almost precisely that, in fact-- just a little bit over as of last March. That’ll be why Aki insisted she come along with them this time, no doubt. She wants to help find her sister. They were inseparable back before Aki got lost, after all.

Aki has, of course, every right to come along. She’s an  _ adult,  _ to begin with-- someone who should have total control over her decisions and her life. Even if she wasn’t coming along with Rantaro and Shuichi she could always just go by herself and there’d be no stopping her. Not that Rantaro should even try. Plus, Kei is her twin  _ sister.  _ Someone who she was closer to than anyone else in the world back when she was eleven. She  _ should  _ be coming to find her. It makes sense.

That doesn’t stop Rantaro from feeling like there’s a block of lead in his stomach, though. Every time he rests for longer than a moment he gets caught up in anxiety-- over Aki getting lost or hurt, over Kei not wanting to return and Aki having to deal with it, over finding out that Kei is dead… Aki dying somehow… it’s not likely to happen but that’s not going to stop Rantaro from  _ worrying  _ about it. And it’s not like he can say any of that to Aki, either, because that’s not fair to her. He’s her older brother, not her keeper.

Shuichi’s gaze is awfully shrewd. He usually picks up on these things, even if Rantaro isn’t aware that they’re hanging on his mind. He tilts his head to the side slightly, as though to ask,  _ do you want to talk about it?  _ and his gaze flits towards a coffee stand nearby; an excuse to split off and speak in privacy.

But Rantaro doesn’t. What would he say? What would  _ Shuichi  _ say, that would make him feel better? Instead of replying, he leans forward and kisses his boyfriend, short enough so that Aki doesn’t feel uncomfortable (if she’s even looking at them) and long enough that he still feels the sensation of Shuichi’s chapped lips on his own as he pulls away.

And Shuichi gets the message. He doesn’t look happy about it, or satisfied in any way-- in fact his brows furrow momentarily-- but he seems to drop it, squeezing Rantaro’s hand again and resting his head against his upper arm while they wait for Aki and Jack to finish saying their goodbyes.

\---

Kei decided that she would have liked Canberra a lot if she hadn’t been forced to go. And if Aki was with her. They didn’t even need to sneak out at night like they did on almost all of the trips they took prior to New York City. It would’ve been something special, going around the city and seeing the sights with her twin sister at her side. Aki had a way of making things fun, when it was just the two of them. Without Aki Kei sort of felt… washed out, colourless, bland. She found it ironic that she was the only one of her sisters who hadn’t gotten lost, because out of everybody… she was probably the most useless to Rantaro.

They didn’t talk about their argument. (Well, argument is a bit of a strong word for it… it was more just Kei snapping at Rantaro and running off.) Maybe he wanted to, but he was obviously going to wait for her to bring it up first, and Kei was never going to do that, no way. Instead they got on the plane the next morning and talked about the cuisine, and about this thing called swooping season where Australians got divebombed by magpies and how Rantaro was hoping they’d get to see it because it would be spring in Australia in a couple of days, despite the fact that in the northern hemisphere, September marked the beginning of the season that Kei’s sister was named for. Really it was just Rantaro talking, but Kei didn’t mind listening. He knew so much.

It was something that happened to her a lot. A conversation would start and she would  _ want  _ to participate but she would never know what to say. Like, the urge to talk would be there but she would never have anything interesting or substantial to contribute. The only person who Kei could really talk to was Aki. Aki made things… comfortable. Easy. Kei felt less awkward when she was around. If Aki was still alive in New York City… she was probably doing just fine without Kei there by her side. But the opposite couldn’t have been further from the truth.

As expected, Kei’s step-father’s business associates were tall, faceless men in black suits. She found herself fascinated by the socks of one of them. The ugly yellow and orange hexagon pattern stuck out particularly amidst the otherwise total formality of their attire. Rantaro handled the interaction, but Kei wasn’t paying any attention. She could understand English but if she spaced out it all started to sound like a bunch of random (but harsh) syllables. Not real words with actual meanings. It was over before she knew it and she and Rantaro made their way back to their hotel.

“So,” Rantaro closed and locked the door to their hotel room, leaning against the wall and offering a ghost of a smile. “Dad said we could spend a couple extra days in Canberra if we want to. As a treat.”

Kei shoved her hands into her pockets, biting the inside of her cheek. Her gut reflex was to snap no, but she already felt guilty for being mean to her brother before they left Japan, so instead she held her tongue, kicking at the carpet of their hotel room. “Do you want to?” she asked quietly, figuring that the least she could do for him was let him make the call here. Rantaro chuckled, and she looked up to meet his gaze, saw him shaking his head.

“Not even slightly,” he said, and Kei managed a smile of her own in response. Whether he really felt that way, or he was just saying that because he knew she wanted to go straight to New York, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t gonna make her stick around. Not that she thought he would (Rantaro was a good brother through and through) but even when Kei knew things to be fact it was difficult to believe them without repeated confirmation. When Rantaro moved forward and spread his arms, she leaned into them, curling her hands in the fabric of his coat and pressing her nose into his shoulder. “Why don’t we go grab a bite at a restaurant? I’ll book us a flight in the morning.”

“Okay,” Kei murmured. When Rantaro moved to pull away, she felt herself hugging him tighter, squeezing her eyes closed. She didn’t know why she wanted to cry all of a sudden. But if Rantaro had anything to say, he kept it to himself.

\---

Rantaro flops back onto his bed, resting his forearm over his eyes and letting out a quiet groan. Based on Aki’s laugh from the bed on the other side of the room, she definitely heard him. He undoes the scarf that’s tucked around his neck and balls it up with one hand, throwing it across the room in her general direction.

“Hey!” Aki is still laughing, but her yell is indignant. Rantaro smiles, shifting his arm and cracking one of his eyes open to look at her. The scarf made its mark, landing on top of her head. The green of the scarf resting in her pale blue hair makes her look a little bit like one of those Tumblr aesthetic blogs that Shuichi shows him from time to time. “I didn’t know you got so tired after getting off planes. It wasn’t like that when we were kids.”

“Yeah, but I’m old now,” Rantaro sits up, stretching his head to the side to get out the cricks in his neck. Aki giggles and he pouts at her. “I’m older than  _ you,  _ at least.”

“Pss, by what, eleven months? Not even,” Aki walks across the room and plops down next to him on the bed. She’ll be sleeping in the one by the window, of course; this one belongs to Shuichi and Rantaro. But it’s not like there are any big red lines drawn across the center of the room. Aki leans against him so he shifts to slide his arm around her shoulders. “It’s been a while since I’ve been on a plane, though. I mean, Dad’s offered, but Jack and I are always so busy.”

“Mm,” Rantaro squeezes her shoulder. “Can’t relate.”

“No kidding. Two times out of three I’ll try to reach you and you’ll be in some other country. Not that you’re particularly  _ good  _ at answering texts in the first place,” she adds, grinning. Rantaro can’t argue with that, though he huffs quietly and averts his gaze in response to the tease. In truth, he replies to texts from his sisters as soon as he sees them and takes hours or days to get back to his friends. It’s not that he doesn’t care about them, it’s just that his sisters are the priority. And Shuichi, of course, but he and Shuichi are together pretty much all the time regardless, so it’s not like they have to text a lot, when they want to communicate. “So what’s the plan for today?”

“Considering that it’s getting pretty late,” Rantaro muses, looking out the window at the setting sun. Canberra is a nice city. The traffic is light and the buildings are pleasing on the eyes. All the buildings in Tokyo are so… loud. It’s a lot. Canberra is one of those places where Rantaro could see himself actually living-- or at least, he might’ve been able to, once, before he lost a sister here. “I think we’ll just grab some food at one of the restaurants nearby. Do you like lamb?”

“Uh, never had it,” Aki sits up, so Rantaro drops his arm from around her shoulders, watching her head back over to one of her suitcases to rifle through her things. “I guess it’s an option if you’re asking?”

“Well, Shuichi and I have sprung for it a couple times,” Rantaro grins. “It’s a popular meat here.”

“I thought you’d spring more for like, I dunno, kangaroos,” says Aki, pulling out a t-shirt and wrinkling her nose. “How long is Shuichi going to be in the shower?”

“Couple hours, I’d expect,” Rantaro jokes, then raises his hands to surrender when Aki turns to glare at him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding-- Shuichi takes long showers. Maybe he’ll be more considerate of his hot water use considering that you’re here. You probably should’ve tried to go first.”

Aki pouts. “I like Shuichi, I don’t want to bully him out of a shower. If it was  _ you,  _ I’d have had no problem. Though you’d probably just have offered,” she puts her t-shirt back into the suitcase and sits down on the carpet, stretching out her legs. “So why  _ aren’t  _ we going out to eat kangaroo? You’re adventurous, wouldn’t that be your thing?”

“God,” Rantaro laughs, shaking his head. “I think it would be kind of culturally insensitive for me to go to the supermarket and buy a kangaroo sausage for the thrilling aspects of it. Plus,  _ my  _ idea of an adventure is going somewhere dangerous and seeing the sights. Not eating a new kind of meat. I’m already enough of a rich boy, I don’t need to go that far.”

“Huh, fair enough,” Aki shrugs. After a moment of silence, she asks, “But  _ have _ you eaten kangaroo before?”

Rantaro tilts his head up towards the ceiling. “I wonder how many ceiling tiles they have up there. Last time I counted a hundred and forty. We’re in a different room now, though, since you’re here, so there will probably be more, right?”

“Rantaro…”

“I’m counting now.”

“Rantaro, answer the question.”

“One, two, three, four--”

“You’re the worst,” Aki groans, snatching a pillow off her bed and throwing it at him. Revenge for the scarf, probably. Rantaro catches it and grins, shooting a wink her way, to let her know that no, he’s never going to tell her whether or not he’s eaten kangaroo before.

(But no, he hasn’t. It’s one of those things that he’d have to go out and actively try to do, and Rantaro just doesn’t have the time for that. Maybe someday.)

\---

It was around nine o’clock in the evening when Kei first noticed that Rantaro was looking a bit nauseous. His face was paler than usual and every time he stood up from his bed, for any reason, whether to grab a book from his backpack or to head to the bathroom, he swayed a bit, resting a hand on the wall and closing his eyes to take a few deep breaths. She asked him if he was alright but he dismissed her concerns, smiling and saying that something from the meal they ate probably didn’t agree with him.

And like, food poisoning wasn’t the most uncommon thing in the world but Kei and Rantaro ate from the same dish. So if something was off with the food then she should’ve been feeling it as well. Except that she wasn’t-- she wasn’t feeling bad at all, except for a churning in her stomach, but that was a familiar churning, an anxious churning, the kind that kicked in when she knew something was wrong and she didn’t know how to help. For a while she wondered if Rantaro was having an allergic reaction to something they ate, like a slow-acting kind, but when she looked up allergic reactions on her phone Google told her that swelling and hives were symptoms, not nausea.

Rantaro didn’t seem to be feeling well but he also wasn’t swelling up anywhere. Which meant that probably Rantaro was sick.

There were a couple problems with that-- to begin with, this was the first time that Kei had gone anywhere even remotely foreign without her mom around to help her out. Whenever she or one of her siblings got sick back home they went to a doctor. She didn’t know anything about how to take care of a sick person beyond maybe putting a wet rag on their forehead and covering them in blankets. Solutions which would be no help if Rantaro’s sickness turned out to be the vomiting kind.

He seemed pretty determined to keep it from getting that way. Even told Aki to go to sleep at around eleven, and she did-- or she tried, at least. Screwed her eyes shut and buried her face in her pillow, eventually plugging in earbuds and listening to her Eve playlist on loop until she forgot about her anxiety for a while. But Kei rolled in her sleep, and her earbuds ended up getting yanked out as a result, and at around three in the morning she woke up again to a faint yellow light leaking into the dark room from the bathroom and the sound of retching. When Kei slipped out from under the covers and stood in the bathroom doorway, peeking in apprehensively, she saw her brother bent over the toilet, so-- that was that.

What could she do, though? Again, she didn’t know how to take care of people who were sick. If Rantaro had the stomach flue (and it seemed like it; when he eventually stopped throwing up and she rested her hand on his forehead, it felt really hot) then she would have no idea how to go about it. She could call her mom, or her step-father, but for some reason the thought of doing so made her feel dizzy with anxiety.

As Kei was helping Rantaro back into his bed, grabbing a trash bin from the corner of the room and putting it right next to him in the case of an emergency, it occurred to her that she could probably go out and find a doctor. If not to come help her brother directly, then to instruct her on what to do, at least. The thought was encouraging, relieving, even, but when she brought it up to Rantaro he grabbed her wrist, hazy eyes suddenly blown wide with panic.

“Don’t,” he shook his head, and Kei felt her stomach flop over, watched a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face. “Don’t, Kei, don’t go. I’ll be-- I’ll be okay, jus’ don’t-- don’t go anywhere.”

Usually Rantaro wasn’t so… well, Kei didn’t know how to put it. But there was something desperate and unfamiliar about the look in his eyes. At any rate she agreed not to go anywhere, using the hand that he wasn’t holding to brush his hair out of his face. Rantaro fell asleep quickly and Kei stayed awake, sitting down at the edge of his bed and touching his forehead every so often, just to see if his temperature was rising. She compared it to her own forehead a few times but it was difficult for her to really tell the difference. Rantaro’s skin felt really warm, though, warmer than usual.

Hours later he woke up again and Kei watched him scrambling out from under the covers. This time he turned on the sink before he threw up. Perhaps to spare her the sound of it. She got to her feet regardless and waited for him to finish, to be calmed, before she helped him back to his bed. Once he had fallen asleep for the second time, out of curiosity, Kei did a Google search of the doctors in the area. There was one just a mile and a half away. It would only take her twenty minutes or so to walk. She’d be gone for an hour. She wasn’t sure if it was okay to leave Rantaro alone for an hour. But if he didn’t receive some kind of treatment, or medicine-- Kei was worried that he would get worse.

At seven thirty, just half an hour before the doctor’s office was to open, Kei made up her mind. She changed out of her sleeping clothes and pulled a large hoodie over her head, making sure her cell phone was over ninety percent charged and sliding it into the pocket of her jeans. She packed herself a backpack, too, because Aki would’ve; a couple sweaters, extra pairs of socks, and a water bottle. Aki might’ve packed books, too, except that all the books Kei had were paperback, and they probably weren’t very well-suited to the task. She felt guilty leaving Rantaro behind without any kind of entertainment, anyway, in case he woke up during the hour she was gone.

(She hoped he wouldn’t. It would scare him, probably, to wake up and see the room empty. But she would be coming right back.)

Kei zipped up her backpack and laced up her boots-- an identical pair to the one she wore when she was eleven, but larger, because her feet had grown since then-- before getting to her feet, rolling her lower lip in between her teeth. She felt just the slightest bit hesitant to leave Rantaro alone. What if he needed help getting back to bed at some point?

...but getting a doctor was important. Definitely. The internet could only help so much. Kei leaned over her brother and kissed him on the forehead, the way he did for her and all their other sisters, back when they were still around. She was not going to become one of them. She wasn’t leaving him behind, she was just getting help. And not getting help in the way that Aki and Koharu did. She was really gonna come back. Kei promised that, silently, brushing Rantaro’s hair out of his face again before standing up straight and walking to the door.

She had always struggled with resolve, but there were ways around it. Kei often found that refusing to look back helped her in committing to things. So she didn’t. She didn’t turn around as she hurried down the hallway from their hotel room, down the stairs, and through the lobby. She waved at the receptionist, who raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything, and then slipped out one of the double glass doors, flinching slightly at the patter of rain overhead. A light springtime drizzle. The streets smelled like pollen. Kei wasn’t allergic though, so the scent didn’t bother her. She pulled up her hood to block out the rain and held her hand over her eyes, taking her phone out of her pocket.

Spending the entire trip on her phone felt like a bad idea. Kei quickly committed the first few instructions to memory before starting off down the sidewalk. She still wasn’t very good with the phone. Google Maps could be unreliable sometimes, or at the very least difficult for her to read. Not to mention that the streets in Canberra looked different from the ones in Japan; the sounds of people speaking in English around her felt harsh and jarring. Idly Kei wondered if this was how Aki felt, wandering off in New York City in an attempt to get her some help. (With the thought, she glared at her useless right arm, as though it was its fault her sister got lost.)

She wondered what  _ happened  _ to Aki. If she got abducted or lost or distracted somehow-- she refused to entertain the possibility that Aki might’ve  _ died,  _ though she knew that Rantaro thought about it. He thought about it often, actually, woke up sometimes from screaming nightmares about it and Kei always found it difficult to talk him down from them. Not when he was already so reluctant to let her help him in the first place. Kei used her right hand to shield the water from her phone and rechecked the map, biting her lip as she mentally tried to calculate where she was to turn next.

It was an arduous process. A few blocks, check, a few blocks, check. Kei was starting to regret not bringing her headphones along so that she could just have the robot tell her where to go. She liked being able to use her ears, though, to hear what was going on around her. Wearing her earbuds while she walked made her feel vulnerable, like there was car coming up behind her and she was going to be hit by it. It couldn’t be helped, though. Kei bit her lip, furrowing her brow as she checked the next set of instructions, and made to slide her phone into her pocket, lifting her head and looking straight forward just as a stranger slammed into her left side.

Kei stumbled backwards, wincing, but apologised automatically; “A-Ah, I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” in what she felt was very awkward English. The stranger reached out, steadying her with a hand on either of her shoulders, and gave a small, sympathetic smile. His eyes were brown, but they had pale green rings inscribed in his irises. Unique.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said quietly, in an accent Kei recognised as Australian because of the time she had spent in this city. “I wasn’t watching either.”

She managed a smile, because at least he wasn’t angry, and remained where she was as the stranger took off down the street behind her. It occurred to Kei that she didn’t remember the directions that she’d just checked, and so she groaned, shoving her hand into her pocket to grab her phone.

Only for her fingers to close around a whole lot of nothing. Her pockets were pretty small, so at first she thought perhaps she dropped it in the collision, but-- no, there was nothing on the pavement by her feet. There were a couple other people milling about, not an excessive amount but still, people, and Kei wondered if one of them had snatched it before realising the obvious answer. That man who bumped into her just now, he’d pickpocketed her. Kei’s chest squeezed with anger (and slight panic as well) and she flipped around, scanning the heads behind her until she spotted his.

“Hey!” Kei cupped her mouth with her hands, yelling after the stranger in question. “You took my phone!” He clearly heard her, because he took a quick glance over his shoulder before breaking into a run. Kei grit her jaw and balled her hands into fists before taking off in a sprint after him, weaving through the few people she encountered and struggling to keep him in her sights. He already had about half a block on her, and with all the turns he was making, random rights and lefts in random directions, it wasn’t long before he started to fade out of Kei’s sight. Still, she pushed herself onwards, turning on the corners that she caught glimpses of him turning on and refusing to stop, even as her lungs started to burn.

Eventually, though, she came up to a dead end, a street that was fenced off and under construction, and realised that he was nowhere in sight. Kei flipped around, scanning the streets behind her, but… no luck. She’d lost him.

She had to take a moment to catch her breath. Even if dread was starting to eat at her stomach, she was finding it hard to focus over the burning of her lungs. Kei rested her hands on her knees and forced herself to take long, deep, even breaths, screwing her eyes shut and ignoring her rationality for just a fraction of a second. Then she opened her eyes again, straightening up, and tried to figure out what to do.

So he took her phone. That meant she had no way of figuring out where she was, or contacting her brother, or even finding out where the nearest police station was. But that was fine. She could find the police without a cell phone. Kei knew enough English to enter one of the local businesses and ask for the directions to the station. Even if they threw her out, someone was bound to help her  _ eventually.  _ It wasn’t like she would be asking for much, just an address to a place where she could go and use the phone to call her parents, and then get back to her brother.

It would be okay. She was lost, but she wasn’t  _ lost.  _ She wasn’t gonna break her promise to Rantaro. No way.

\---

Their tentative plan for the first few days is to start asking around small business and other local stores in the area to see if they’ve seen Kei at any point in the past ten years.

A decade is kind of a wide timeframe to be asking somebody about a specific missing person, but considering how  _ little  _ information they have on her actual whereabouts… they have to make due. In the past, their efforts have been marginally unsuccessful. Shuichi and Rantaro have combed this area up and down, right to left, but nobody’s ever seen anyone who looks like Kei. It is… infuriating, to say the least. But there’s not much they can do about it other than keep looking.

As they walk down a sidewalk on one of the main roads, Rantaro hums, half thinking about how nicely Shuichi’s hand still fits into his after almost a decade of being together, but also taking in his surroundings, trying to reason out places in his head that he hasn’t checked yet. All the stores are familiar by now; the dress shop, the ice cream place, the bookstore… it’s only when they pass an electronics shop that Rantaro stops walking, and not because he thinks the place might hold any answers about Kei. Shuichi jerks to a stop beside him, the nature of their linked hands, and shoots Rantaro a concerned look, but Rantaro hears him calling out to Aki to tell her to stop, too, so he goes ahead and focuses on what caught his eye.

One of the televisions in the window of the store is playing the news. He can’t hear the audio from out here, but the headline is in English, and it reads,  _ Chrysanthemum Killer strikes again in Paris! _

It must be the case that he and Shuichi went to look into last month. Of course, Rantaro already knows that case about as well as he really could; he and Shuichi had the opportunity to question the daughters of the victim, and they’re even decently sure that they know who called for the assassin. Even so, Rantaro can’t help but tug his boyfriend into the store, nudging the door open with his shoulder and stepping inside to check out the television.

“G’day,” the store clerk, perhaps thirty-year-old woman with eccentric bubblegum pink hair and a spattering of freckles across her nose greets them, waving a hand. “Can I help you find anything?”

“I think my brother’s interested in what’s on the news,” Aki answers before Rantaro can say anything, laughing quietly, like she’s about to confide something embarrassing in the clerk. “He’s a bit of a mass murderer nut, y’know? He’s been following the Chrysanthemum case for years now.”

This, of course, is a lie: Aki, like the rest of their family, understands that it’s most likely her own  _ sister  _ who has been assassinating people and placing white funeral flowers on their bodies. A symbol of  _ respect,  _ apparently. If there’s any respect to be found in an assassination. But Rantaro can’t bring himself to judge Kikuko too harshly for it. Regardless, he knows what Aki’s doing. She’s covering from him. And Rantaro is deeply grateful for it.

Not that she knows about the incident that comes to mind, when Rantaro thinks about this case. She wasn’t present for it and Shuichi hasn’t wanted to tell anybody, so they’ve kept it under wraps. But back when they were London, some people from that cult that abducted Kikuko dragged Shuichi into an alley and held a gun against his temple, threatening his life if he and Rantaro didn’t back off the search.

Obviously, they can’t give up on Kikuko, but… the thought still rattles him. The idea that Rantaro could lose Shuichi, for any reason… he doesn’t want to think about it. And they don’t talk about it a lot, haven’t since they left London last month, but Rantaro knows the subject of most of the nightmares Shuichi wakes up from nowadays. He wishes there was a way to make that disappear.

On the television, a woman with a bright yellow barrette in her hair is saying,  _ “This last Friday, it was revealed to the public by the French National Police that the murder of Chinese Ambassador Li Jing Chao was in fact another death in a string of murders committed by the assassin international news outlets dubbed the Chrysanthemum Killer. As with all the other killings, a white chrysanthemum was left on Chao’s body after she was killed. Chao was a mother of two and a highly accomplished assassin, but at the moment police are baffled as to any potential motive in her death.” _

“Really?” Rantaro can’t help chuckling just the slightest bit, a wry smile making its way onto his expression. Shuichi meets his gaze, raising an inquisitive brow, and so Rantaro clears his throat, speaking quietly, and in Japanese, so that the clerk won’t overhear. “That’s not what I remember. Clearly the police haven’t spoken to Madeline.”

“Mm. Or they have, and they’re choosing to keep this piece of information private,” Shuichi says, tilting his head to the side. “Though, I’m not sure what benefit there would be in keeping the motive under wraps.” He pauses, his brow furrowing. “U-Unless, uhm, they weren’t planning on it.”

Rantaro realises after a beat that Shuichi is suggesting that perhaps the man who had Li Jing Chao killed reached out to his contacts more than once. The first time to scare off a meddling traveler and his detective boyfriend. The second… the French Chief of Police. “Hey,” Rantaro releases Shuichi’s hand in order to cup the side of his chin instead, tilting his face upwards to meet his gaze. “Are you--”

“Fine,” Shuichi interrupts, a tad breathlessly, and tears his eyes away. “I’m okay. It’s fine.” He clears his throat, blinking quickly, and Rantaro frowns. He doesn’t _seem_ okay. But he also probably doesn’t want to cry in a public store in front of a stranger-- and Aki, probably. Rantaro himself doesn’t want to cry in front of his sisters and they’re related to him. It must be ten different shades of awkward for Shuichi, the prospect of doing so. So Rantaro lets the subject drop, leaning forward to press a light kiss against Shuichi’s forehead.

Speaking of Aki, actually. Rantaro turns around, doing a sweep of the store with his eyes, trying to figure out where she wandered off to while she was talking to the clerk. Only to realise that he doesn’t see the clerk anywhere. Or his sister, for that matter.

\---

Kei found the police station after what she assumed was an hour of looking. It was pretty in-your-face-- the biggest issue for her was figuring out which streets were which. She could speak and understand English alright but she still had difficulties reading the street signs, on occasion. She could recognise the characters in  _ police,  _ though; something she was grateful for when she opened the black-rimmed glass door and stepped inside.

There was a woman sitting behind a desk inside, but Kei noticed several adults standing in front of it, presumably talking to the secretary, so she decided to wait. Three chairs with burgundy cushions made up a waiting area of sorts, but Kei didn’t want to sit down, felt too wired to do so, so she opted to stand, crossing her arms over her chest and biting her lip.

While she stood, she couldn’t help overhearing the words of the people at the desk.

“She snuck out last night during dinner-- things are always so chaotic during meals and especially on Saturday nights when several of our volunteers have their days off,” a tall, stressed-looking woman with white streaks in her brown hair was saying to the secretary, who nodded sympathetically. “Should I describe to you what she looks like? Oh, I’m so worried about her, she’s only thirteen--”

“Writing it down there on the form will be just fine,” the secretary, who to Kei, sounded slightly harassed, pointed at a sheet of paper that was lying on the desk, being filled out by one of the older woman’s companions. “And we’ll be sure to do everything we can for you, ma’am. What’s the child’s name, again?”

“Yuki, we don’t know her last name, she’s the smallest little thing with blue hair, and--” Before Kei could even begin to process that description, the woman stopped short, turning her head to the side and widening her eyes dramatically when they landed on her. “Yuki!”

“Is that her?” the secretary asked, raising her eyebrows in mild surprise. She turned to look at Kei, peering at her through her glasses. “Are you Yuki?”

“What?” Kei realised (a moment later than she should’ve) that she was being addressed. “N-No, I’m not, my name is Kei, it’s not--”

“Really, now, Yuki, what business did you have running of like that? You scared us all half to death!” The older woman walked directly over to Kei, who, slightly intimidated, tried to back away-- only to realise she was already leaning against the wall and thus had nowhere to go. She swallowed hard, looking up and meeting the older woman’s crystal clear grey eyes. They reminded her of Satsuki and Hikaru’s eyes, except that Satsuki and Hikaru had more of a stormy grey colour. This woman’s reminded her of a snowball that got too warm and turned see-through and hard, dripping cold water through the fabric of her gloves.

“No, no, wait,” Kei held up her hands in a placating gesture, the way she’d seen Rantaro do a thousand times. “L-Look, I’m sorry, I don’t know who Yuki is, but I’m not her. I mean, Yuki is a Japanese name so it makes sense that you’d confuse the two of us, but she’s not me.” She addressed the secretary then, biting her lip. “My name is Kei Amami, I’m here because I’m lost and I wanted to contact my br--”

“Amami?” The man who was formerly filling out paperwork raised an eyebrow. He had charcoal black hair tucked under a red baseball cap and eyes that reminded Kei of embers in a fire. “As in Ichigou Amami, the business man? Would you be his daughter?”

“Yeah, that’s me, I--”

“The Amamis all have green hair, silly girl,” the older woman, the one who stood before Kei, smiled, and it was the kind of smile that might’ve seemed endeared from afar, but up close Kei saw the irritated, twitchy undertones, the patronising gleam in her pale eyes. “You don’t have green hair at all. I don’t know where you even  _ heard  _ of the Amamis, we rarely talk about Japanese business.”

Kei scoffed. “I’m his step-daughter-- listen, I’m really really sorry this girl Yuki is lost, but I’m really not--”

“It’s a clever lie,” the secretary said, lacing her fingers together in front of her. “I might’ve believed you if the director of your orphanage hadn’t come here first. But did you really expect to fool all of us?”

“I--” Kei furrowed her brow. “What?”

“Yuki, you need to go home.” The woman sighed, shaking her head. “I know that living in an orphanage is hard, but you cause the adults in your life a lot of trouble by trying to run away like this. Just try to sit tight until you get adopted, okay? I’m sure the right person will come along for you soon.”

She smiled, and Kei knew enough about smiles to recognise that it was a kind smile, even if her tone was stern, but that… really wasn’t what Kei was wanting to hear. “No, wait, I-- I’m not an orphan! Please, just let me call my brother, I can write down his number and you can dial it, he can explain--”

“Do the Amamis even have business in Canberra?” mused the man in the red cap. “How would she have even heard of them?”

“Some news clipping, no doubt,” the older woman sighed. “Or maybe one of the volunteers has been showing the kids things on the internet. We ought to have a talk with them about that. Especially when it comes to Yuki,” she glared down at Kei. “Really, you’d think they’d learn after  _ one  _ attempt at running away.”

“Running an orphanage must be impossible,” the secretary smiled sympathetically. “Take care, you all.”

“Wait,” Kei tried to speak up again, even as the older woman grabbed her arm and started to pull her towards the door. She tried digging her heels into the floor, to make it harder to be pulled it-- but it was difficult to fight her back because the arm she grabbed was Kei’s right. “Please, wait, I’m not--”

“C’mon, Yuki,” the only adult who hadn’t spoken yet, a short, balding man with a wisp of curly blond hair atop his head, frowned at her. “The jig is up.”

“I-It’s not a jig, or a lie, I’m really--”

“You’re so much more determined about this one than you are usually,” frowned the older woman. “Are you just upset that your lie isn’t going to be bought after you put so much work into it?”

It occurred to Kei at that moment that  _ none  _ of the adults in that lobby were going to listen to her. She didn’t know what exactly had happened, but she got the gist; some orphan girl named Yuki ran away, and apparently she looked like Kei. But what were the odds that there was some other Japanese girl in Canberra with blue hair? It didn’t make any sense. What made even  _ less  _ sense was that nobody heard her out. Her desperation was one hundred percent genuine, they had to hear that.

But perhaps the issue was that they didn’t care. As Kei was dragged out the door and into a black car that smelled like artificial trees and sunflower seeds, she thought that perhaps there was a reason that girl named Yuki decided to run away.

\---

Rantaro is determinedly not going to panic. There’s a bell on the door. He would’ve heard it if somebody went out of it. Right. Yeah. Except that there’s a back room back there and probably an employee exit, meaning that if that woman with the bubblegum pink hair was going to do something dubious-- if she  _ did  _ something dubious while Rantaro and Shuichi were distracted-- she could’ve. And Rantaro wasn’t even paying attention.

“What’s the matter?” Shuichi asks softly, his voice level again, one of his hands falling to rest on Rantaro’s upper arm. Rantaro bites the inside of his cheek, unsure how to respond, how to proceed. She must be in the back room, that’s the only place she could’ve gone, but-- but why? Was she dragged back there? Rantaro knows he sometimes gets so absorbed into his own thoughts that he doesn’t hear the world around him, but even so, this is… this is egregious, this is… if he didn’t hear his sister getting kidnapped, if he just lost Aki for the second time, then he--

And maybe it was the cult? Maybe he and Shuichi weren’t careful enough? But it’s only been a month and they’ve hardly taken any other big actions-- maybe they decided it wasn’t a good enough warning, the threats placed on Shuich’s life, so they… but no, that couldn’t be, Rantaro’s sure-- he’s  _ sure-- _ Aki would’ve put up a fight. She tells him sometimes about how she managed to fight off a mugger when she was only eleven, aim a good kick and run as hard as she could. She can defend herself.

Well, against a mugger, she can defend herself. Against a highly trained assassin… Rantaro isn’t so sure. His throat feels so very dry. Shuichi’s grip tightens on his sleeve but he doesn’t say anything, which means he must’ve noticed that Aki isn’t here. His silence is almost worse than his questions, though. Rantaro swallows. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

“Hey, uh, Aki?” Rantaro calls out. He moves forward, towards the counter (and subsequently the entrance to the back of the store), opening his mouth to call out again, but he’s spared the trouble.

“Yeah, just a second,” Aki’s voice calls back, and Rantaro feels like a balloon is deflating in his chest. A moment later Aki appears from the back room, a bright smile and a DVD held in her hand, and the clerk with the bubblegum pink hair emerges beside her, shooting Rantaro a smile of her own before going back to work behind the counter. “Rantaro, you won’t believe it,” Aki slips out from the counter and holds up her DVD. “But Amanda-- that’s her, the clerk-- she was here, ten years ago, and she saw Kei running past the window. There are cameras under the awning that record the sidewalk just outside the stoor and she caught Kei on tape.”

“You still have the tape in question?” Shuichi moves up to Rantaro’s side but makes no moves to touch him, addressing Amanda with a slightly incredulous look on his face. “Why?”

“Thought it was important,” says Amanda with a shrug. “She was chasing a mugger, y’know? I managed to get a bit of the guy’s face on camera. Thought I’d bring it in to the police at some point but I never got the chance. Aki reminded me so much of the girl on camera that I thought I’d ask her if it was her I’d been keeping film of for ten years.”

“Of course, when she heard the New York accent, she thought maybe not,” Aki grins. “But still-- now we know what direction Kei went in! Good news, huh?” She gives a thumbs up, the DVD hooked around one of her thumbs, and then falters, perhaps noticing for the first time the look on Rantaro’s face. “Uhm. Rantaro? You okay?”

She sounds concerned. Rantaro clears his throat, nodding his head yes and making himself smile. He was just freaking out over nothing. Aki’s okay. “Yeah, fine. This is really good-- uhm, thank you, Amanda,” he offers her a smaller, more genuine smile, and Amanda nods, drumming her fingers on the glass counter of the display case she’s leaning against.

“Least I could do. I hope you find your sister, mate,” she addresses Aki, her brows pinched in sympathy. She has a ring in one of them. “I have a twin myself. Couldn’t imagine being away from him for thirteen years, even if he’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“Thank you,” Aki smiles, reaching out to squeeze Amanda’s hand. “When we find her, I’ll bring her by to visit. Take care.”

“You too,” Amanda nods, and thus the three of them make their way back onto the sidewalk.

Aki and Shuichi spark up a conversation again, about something or another, as they start off in the direction that Kei apparently ran in the video. Rantaro tries not to lag behind, but mentally he’s not all that here. He’s back in the electronics store, for the split second where he was afraid something had happened to his sister. His hands are still shaking and everything. He closes them into fists at his side, swallowing hard. He really needs to chill out.

\---

Kei had never been to an orphanage before, so admittedly, she wasn’t really sure what she was supposed to be expecting. The black gate around the premises made the whole thing feel like something out of a horror film, though, even if the fact that it was spring time had purple flowers blooming in large patches all over the grounds. The rain had let up on the drive, and as Kei awkwardly followed her three adult escorts towards the building that loomed ahead of her, she had to put a bit of extra effort into not slipping on the gravel path up to the entrance.

The building itself was tall, perhaps three stories, but quite a bit wider. The windows were long and rounded at the tops, offwhite curtains drawn in all of them except one, where a girl with choppy black hair was reading a book. She glanced over, as though sensing Kei’s gaze, and they made eye contact through the glass. Kei felt her nerves spiking and averted her gaze. The girl couldn’t have been any older than Kei, but her deep purple gaze seemed to weigh a million pounds.

A detail that remained consistent in all the eyes she met as she walked in. There must have been twenty or thirty kids standing around, watching her be led inside of the orphanage, and yet they all seemed… similar. They were all different in appearance but their eyes, their eyes were sorrowful and tired. Kei felt her stomach folding. What were things like in this place, for so many young children to wear such care-worn expressions?

These premises weren’t too well for the wear either, Kei noticed with a touch of distaste. The walls were peeling and marked, whether with markers or with other, indistinguishable stains, she couldn’t discern. The carpet was lifted in several places and the pieces of furniture they passed, the tables, the chairs, they were all raggedy and old.  _ Some orphanage,  _ Kei thought, sliding her hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt and curling them into fists.  _ It feel like I’m being led into a prison. _

They took her up the stairs, which creaked with every step, and down a dusty hall to one of the rooms. Kei noticed immediately that there was a pale blue light streaming in from inside; the window was open. Sure enough, the girl with black hair was sitting in her chair like before, reading her book.

The older woman, the orphanage director, cleared her throat. “Violet, can you give Yuki and me a moment, please?”

The girl, Violet, looked at Kei for a long moment, and then nodded. “Sure.” She hopped down from her chair, dog-earing the page of her book before tucking it under her arm and slipping past them. The look in her byzantium eyes was suspicious, but also slightly sympathetic, and Kei found her own gaze tracking the little girl as she disappeared out the door.

After Violet left, there was a moment of silence, wherein the men from the police station turned and left, leaving Kei and the orphanage director alone. Kei took the opportunity to do a brief glance of the room. There was a bed against either wall; one of them was neatly made, almost appearing untouched. There were bags underneath it but they were zipped and positioned evenly. If Kei had to guess, that was the bed that belonged to Yuki. She must have made it like that before she ran away. The bed on the other side of the room, however, was messy. The sheets untucked and the thin blankets draped on the floor. There was an assortment of books strewn over the space, and black doodles on the wall beside it. Violet’s, probably.

“So,” the orphanage director cleared her throat. “Yuki.”

“That’s not my name,” Kei said stiffly. “And I don’t know  _ yours,  _ either.”

The woman gave her a sharp look, but then sighed, her shoulders relaxing. “Meredith. My name is Meredith. But we’ve been over this before, Yuki. And I’ll be honest with you, there’s little point in continuing to pretend to be Kei Amami, if she’s even a real person. Everyone here knows who you are.” Meredith pinched the bridge of her nose. “I thought I made clear last time you ran away that causing trouble like this was to no aim.”

Kei pursed her lips and said nothing. She wasn’t going to humour this lady, not even for a second.

“Fine,” Meredith sighed again. “Continue being difficult. We’ll see how that ends up.” She shook her head and walked over to the door, pulling it open. Before she stepped through, she turned and spared Kei another glance. “I don’t understand why you want to leave so badly. At least here you’re fed.”

“Maybe the reason Yuki wanted to leave is because you think all Japanese girls look the same,” Kei mumbled. The look she got from Meredith in response to that was… indecipherable. But the door closed after a moment, leaving Kei by herself.

She took another minute to pause, listening to Meredith’s footsteps retreat down the hall, and then sat down on the bed she assumed was Yuki’s, letting out a shuddering sigh. The temptation to start crying was… impossible to quantify. Who knew how her brother was doing then, if he was getting worse, if he’d woken up and seen her gone. He’d have no way of knowing where she was or what her goals were. He couldn’t even reach her by her phone. Kei tucked her knees into her chest and buried her face into them, trying to stifle a sob. She thought that going to the police was the right option. Maybe she should’ve just asked that lady at the shop if she could borrow her phone.

The tears that surfaced, Kei found that she couldn’t keep them from falling and soaking her jeans. The room was cold and the mattress beneath her was stiff. This whole building smelled dusty and stale, like sawdust. The thought of living her was… unbearable. But what was worse was the thought that she’d broken her promise to Rantaro. She’d gotten lost and he wouldn’t be able to find her.

He was all alone. And Kei was too, come to that. She dropped down onto her side, curling into fetal position, and eventually fell asleep like that, trying to stop from sobbing aloud. It wasn’t fair.

\---

They search all the way into the evening. Several of the shop owners they encounter (specifically the older ones, the ones who own the small businesses that they walk into) recall having seen a girl with blue hair running by, back in September ten years ago. They’re making more progress than Rantaro’s been able to make in every one of his trips to Canberra since Kei got lost, but when the sun starts to set overhead, he slides his hands into the pockets of his jacket and clears his throat.

“I think we should call it a wrap for tonight,” he says, gesturing at the deep blue colour that has begun to spread over the sky like a blanket. “There’s not much good in looking in the dark, and none of us have eaten anything since lunch.”

“Hmmm,” Aki purses her lips, like she’s dissatisfied. Rantaro knows what’s on her mind. It’s the feeling he gets every time he’s out on a trip and he has to cut things off for any reason. Of course, if Rantaro was by himself, he’d probably keep looking all the way until eleven o’clock at night, and then even later than that, if he could afford to. The only issue is that they’re relying on the testimony of shop keepers to help them along. Most of these shops are going to be closing up here in a few minutes. There’d be no point in continuing onwards.

Plus, Rantaro  _ isn’t  _ alone. He hasn’t been alone for ages now. He reaches out to squeeze Aki’s shoulder, offering her a wry smile. “We’ll get back to it first thing tomorrow morning. Look, you can write down the exact street corner that we’re on on your notepad and we’ll make our way back here.”

“Yeah, okay,” Aki sighs, reaching into her pocket. Rantaro is expecting her to keep talking, maybe explain her reluctance or the furrow in her brows, but she doesn’t. She just writes down the street they’re on and the intersection and then slides her things back into her pocket, putting on a bright smile. “So! We’d better hurry up and find a really good restaurant before it closes! Or we can get room service. I can’t even remember the last time I ate room service.” She shakes her head and turns, starting off in the direction from which they came, gesturing for Rantaro and Shuichi to follow.

As they do so, Shuichi nudges Rantaro with his arm. “She gets that from you, you know.”   
  


“Gets what from me?” Rantaro asks, raising his eyebrows.

“The smile. That’s the exact smile you wear whenever you’re upset and you don’t want me to ask about it.” He laces their fingers together and then slides both of their hands into his pocket. Rantaro’s rings make a quiet clicking noise when they bump against Shuichi’s cell phone. “You should talk to her later.”

“We spent a decade apart,” Rantaro scoffs, quietly, so Aki won’t hear him. “I’d be surprised if there’s anything about her that she shares with me, at least particularly strongly.”

“Mm. Well, you don’t really look at yourself that often,” Shuichi shrugs. “She’s still your sister. Even after ten years. There are bound to be similarities.”

Shuichi is, as he usually is, most likely correct. Rantaro releases a sigh, closing his eyes and pressing a kiss to the crown of Shuichi’s head. “Yeah, I’ll talk to her.”

\---

Kei didn’t talk to anybody in the first week she spent at the orphanage. Half of the time she was trying to hatch some kind of escape plan, some way to get out, but if Yuki had tried before and failed… she really wasn’t sure what the odds were of that working out. The police clearly weren’t going to be her allies in this situation, not if the way that secretary acted was to be any indication. She could go to a store or something and ask to use the phone (she knew Rantaro’s phone number by heart after all) but… it was the prospect of actually  _ escaping  _ the place that intimidated her. Everything was so routine.

The meals were bland, too. A lot of porridge in the mornings and strange tasting sausage in the evenings. Wilted salads and bread toasted for so long it felt like biting into a brick. There was a structure to the day, but Kei noticed that a lot of the education that the children actually had was pretty… self-managed. The only exception to this was once a week on Wednesdays, when a tutor named Martin came in and taught them varying levels of maths and English. The only problem was that he came once a week and there was a wide variety of children with a wide range of ages living there.

And-- Kei didn’t mean anything against Martin, it was just that the level of education she was at back in Japan with her family was much beyond anything that he had to offer. She wasn’t even in private school. She thought it was perhaps genuinely a testament to how awful the conditions were, that these kids were living in.

It wasn’t as though the orphans were particularly despondent or anything, however. They played with each other with enthusiasm and imagination befitting of kids their ages. None of them really talked to Kei, likely because they thought she was Yuki, and apparently Yuki was widely disliked by all the other children. In fact this was probably part of the reason why Yuki ran away, this wide-spread dislike throughout the orphanage. Kei felt bad for her. It wasn’t like she chose to be an orphan, to live in this decrepit building with a bunch of mean-faced adults.

A week after Kei turned fifteen, she found herself sitting down on the bed that was once Yuki’s, using a green pen she found on the floor downstairs to doodle little flowers on her right hand. The door to her room swung open, and Kei looked up-- but it was only Violet. And Violet didn’t talk much, if at all (Kei only heard her speak when she was addressed) so it wasn’t a very scary thing. Even if her gaze was remarkably heavy. Kei looked back down at her arm.

The mattress of the bed across the room hardly creaked when Violet sat down on it. Kei only knew she did because she saw her doing so, out of the corner of her eye-- and also because she heard the rustling of the sheets, the quiet plop of both of Violet’s shoes hitting the ground. Kei wondered if they were really just going to sit in silence like that, with her doodling on her arm and Violet there, quiet and observant, but eventually the quiet was broken.

“You’re not Yuki,” Violet remarked. Her voice was small and even. She pronounced her words very deliberately, as though she had a hard time enunciating them unless she was extremely intentional.

Kei was surprised by the comment, so out of the blue like that; she messed up one of her flowers and then lifted her gaze, raising her eyebrows in what she hoped came across as shock, not incredulity. Violet’s expression wasn’t hostile, but inquisitive. “No, I’m not,” Kei agreed, hearing her voice aloud for the first time in a week. “How did you know?”

“You have a different face than her. And her hair is darker than yours. Curlier.” Violet pulled her knees into her chest, blinking owlishly over at Kei with her head tilted to the side. “Yuki has a beauty mark right here,” she pointed at her right temple. “And she’s loud too. Even when she comes back from running away, she’s always really loud. It’s annoying,” Violet added, as an afterthought. “But that’s what Yuki’s like.” She frowned. “So what’s your name?”

“Kei,” and then as an afterthought she added, “Amami. My last name is Amami.” It was Hagiwara first, but, well, Kei thought of herself more as an Amami. Even if she didn’t have green hair and eyes. “And you’re… Violet.”

“Yup.” Violet popped the p. Her legs were short enough that her toes barely brushed the floor when she swung them over the side of her bed. She kicked them back and forth like she was sitting on a dock, or a tree branch. “But I don’t know my last name.” Her fingers curled in her blankets and for a moment Kei thought she was upset, but then she looked up, and Kei saw that her brows were tilted curiously. “So, are you an orphan?”

“No, I have parents,” Kei said. She capped her pen and threw it onto the mattress, pulling her legs up into her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “I shouldn’t even be here but Meredith and the people at the police station wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Oh, yeah. Adults do that, they don’t listen.” Violet smiled, like this was a fact of life. And it… made a bit of sense to Kei. That was the whole reason she was  _ in  _ Australia to begin with. If her step-father hadn’t made her and Rantaro go to Canberra, then she never would’ve met that mugger, or ended up at the police station at the same time as Meredith and the other adults… though maybe something else would’ve gone wrong anyway. Kei sort of felt like her family was cursed, for all her sisters to have gotten lost. Poor Rantaro. “You kind of just have to make then listen though,” continued Violet with a shrug. “Or else they’ll assume you’re gonna put up with anything.”

“Usually I just put up with anything,” Kei admitted. She rested her chin on her knees and watched as Violet stopped kicking her legs. “They always… I never feel like I know what to say. And when I do, it doesn’t matter, because adults are so much louder than I am. They don’t hear me.”

“That’s why you have to yell,” Violet’s smile turned into a grin. “I don’t talk a lot but when I do people listen. You should learn how to do that. People don’t have to be afraid of you but they can still hear what you have to say.” She flopped back onto her bed, and Kei looked at her for a long moment. Even  _ before  _ Aki got lost, she had a hard time making people listen to her. She could never raise her voice high enough. But after that she always felt like she didn’t have the right to. “Hey, it’s not that hard,” Violet was looking at her again, her fringe falling over one of her eyes. “I’ll show you. And I’ll help you get home, too. You come from Japan, right? You have an accent.”

“R-Right…” Kei trailed off, swallowing hard. “But, why? I mean, what’s the… point in helping me?”

“Dunno. I liked Yuki a lot. She was funny.” Violet shrugged. “Nobody cares about us here and I think it’s stupid. You and Yuki look way different but they’re still saying she’s you. That’s not fair. So that’s why. Plus, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”

Fair… enough, Kei supposed. Despite how matter-of-fact Violet was, how nonchalant her tone and countenance were, Kei still felt like it was… a big deal. A bigger deal, at least, than Violet was making it. Especially because they didn’t know each other, at all. But Kei thought maybe she should keep that to herself. Not make things weird. At least not yet.

(Though if she got the opportunity… she thought that maybe she should try to get Violet out of this orphanage too, this place where she thought nobody cared about her.)

\---

Surprisingly, the person who falls asleep when they return to the hotel is actually Shuichi. He slips under the covers on his and Rantaro’s bed and closes his eyes before they can even order room service. Rantaro briefly contemplates waking him up, but it’s been a long day. Shuichi doesn’t sleep very well on a normal day, much less the night after getting off a plane (because jetlag screws with his sleep schedule) so Rantaro figures he might as well let him be.

As Aki orders room service (for all three of them, in case Shuichi wakes up) Rantaro runs his fingers through Shuichi’s hair, brushing his bangs out of his eyes so that he can see his face better. Most people look peaceful when they’re sleeping, younger, all the lines erased and the tension pulled. That’s true for Shuichi, too, in a sense, except that nothing can really  _ erase  _ the darkened bags that have been under Shuichi’s eyes for the past month or so. He hasn’t been sleeping very well since the incident back in London.

They had a conversation back at the hotel room, after it happened. Shuichi was worried that Rantaro was going to make him leave. And he played it off like he wasn’t even thinking about it, but-- he was. His immediate thought was that the travels are too dangerous, and that if Shuichi is a target now because of his involvement in the search for Kikuko, then he shouldn’t be involved anymore. The thing is that Rantaro doesn’t get to make those decisions for anybody, least of all Shuichi. If Shuichi wants to stay then that’s what he’s going to do. Rantaro doesn’t really get a part in deciding that. Or-- well, he  _ does,  _ but he doesn’t get the final say on the matter.

And on paper that’s fine, because Rantaro doesn’t want to control Shuichi’s choices and he wants to have him around, by his side, for every trip. It’s just that… if something happened to Shuichi, if he got shot or stabbed or injured in any way, shape, or form on one of these travels… Rantaro doesn’t know how he’d deal with that. How he’d forgive himself. Actually something has  _ already  _ happened to Shuichi, something that’s been affecting him more perhaps than he’d like to let on. Rantaro’s been trying not to think about it. He knows that he should, he just… he doesn’t know how he can cope with it, the knowledge that Shuichi got hurt on a trip that Rantaro had him going on.

“You guys have really been together since high school, huh?” Aki sits down across from Rantaro, on her bed, and Rantaro lifts his gaze from his boyfriend’s face but continues to card his fingers through his hair, nodding in response to his sister’s question. “Long time to hold a relationship. I guess I can’t  _ really  _ talk, but still, it’s impressive.”

“I think the only impressive one in this relationship is Shuichi,” Rantaro replies with a smile, shaking his head. “Putting up with me, and all.”

“How many places have you dragged him to since you started going out?” Aki grins, folding her legs under her and leaning against the pillows at the head of the bed.

“Too many,” Rantaro chuckles. “You know, the first place we actually  _ went  _ together was Los Angeles. And that was Shuichi taking me.” Aki raises her eyebrows, and Rantaro considers explaining, but eventually decides against it, running his hand through Shuichi’s hair again. He’s sure that if Shuichi was awake, he wouldn’t mind taking about it (it was a long time ago, after all) but even so, it’s not really Rantaro’s memory to recount. That was a hard week. “Lots of takeout Vietnamese food on that trip.”

“Mm.” Aki seems pensive for a moment, so Rantaro doesn’t say anything else, opting instead to wait for her to verbalise what’s on her mind. “It was… Hikaru, who was lost in Vietnam, right? In Ho Chi Minh City.”

Ah. Aki’s tone is tight. This is probably to do with the emotion that flickered in her eyes earlier, when Rantaro suggested they wrap things up and head back to the hotel rather than keep searching. “Yeah. Almost twelve years ago now.” He nods. “Saigon isn’t such a bad place to take a couple trips to, but it’d be nicer without the connotations of the city.”

“I can imagine,” Aki exhales, quietly, and turns away so that her fully body is facing the window. It’s dark outside now, but the night is clear and the moon is awfully bright tonight. “Does it ever… get lonely? Always looking around all the time?”

“Uh,” the question feels a little out of the blue but Rantaro figures he should probably just indulge her. “No, not really. I have Shuichi with me, and that’s good enough.”

“But don’t you want to settle down? Live somewhere permanently? It must be hard maintaining your other relationships when you’re out and about all the time. I mean-- I’m not saying you should stop, I’m just-- isn’t it hard?” Aki’s tone is hard to place but Rantaro thinks she might be on the verge of tears. The observation stills his hand in Shuichi’s hair but he doesn’t make any moves to stand up. Not yet, at least.

“There’s not a single thing worth having in this word that isn’t hard, Aki,” Rantaro says quietly. “And it’s worth it, if it means bringing all of you home.”

“I-- I know that,” Aki’s voice shakes. “It’s just-- it’s not really fair.”

She doesn’t elaborate, so Rantaro probes gently, “What’s not fair?”

“That you have to-- that you can’t live a life, that you’re traveling the world alone with your boyfriend, that it’s not Mom or your dad or any of our step-moms who are going out and looking instead. And I-I’m here now, but I haven’t been there in the past, I’ve been living an actual life in Japan, and before that in New York City, while you’ve been going all over the world, and--”

“Aki, hey,” Rantaro interrupts her, alarmed. “You can’t-- beat yourself up over not going on every single trip looking for every single sister. That’s not your responsibility.”

“So that means it’s yours?” Aki turns around finally, and when Rantaro sees the tears that have escaped her eyes, trailed down her face and begun to drip of her chin, he hardly thinks about it, he just gets to his feet and walks across the room to crouch in front of her. She doesn’t protest when he takes both of her hands in his, enveloping them completely and feeling the way that they shake, even as he presses them together. “I’m the oldest too, Rantaro, you’re the oldest brother but I’m the oldest sister, shouldn’t I be responsible for something? This is the first time I’ve come looking for somebody with you, it doesn’t seem right that you’d be sacrificing stability for-- for things that you shouldn’t even have to worry about.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly the person who lost Kikuko in the woods fourteen years ago,” Rantaro smiles wryly, bringing one of her hands to his lips to kiss her knuckles. Aki scoffs, looking away as though she’d like to say something, but he squeezes her hands. “I have plenty of stability. This is where I’m happiest, out in the world and actually  _ doing  _ something. I have all I could want, really. Something to find and the person I love right next to me. What makes me  _ really  _ happy is the thought that you’re at home, in Japan, with a guy who you really like and who treats you well, doing things that make you happy.”

“I still feel like--” Aki breaks off, biting her lip. “It just seems-- it seems wrong, I don’t know how to--” She inhales, closing her eyes. “You just do so much for everybody and you act like it’s not a big deal, like it’s your responsibility, and it’s not.”

“Even if that’s the case,” Rantaro hums. “I’d still rather be out in the world, bringing home what we’ve lost, than doing anything else.” He smiles, a sad, but earnest smile, and waits until Aki meets his gaze. “I’m just happy that you’re somewhere I can reach you, Aki. You don’t need to destroy everything that you’ve been working to create out of a sense of obligation.”

Aki’s lower lip wobbles and she looks at him for a long moment, a few more tears forming in her eyes. “I miss Kei,” she whispers finally. “She was-- I--” she closes her eyes and inhales sharply, a quiet sob slipping from her that wraps around Rantaro’s heart like a compression bandage. “I want to see her again.”

“Yeah, I know, bud. I miss her too,” Rantaro sighs, and when he stands up, leaning forward to take Aki into his arms, she burrows her face into his shoulder, and Rantaro closes his eyes as she starts to cry in earnest.

\---

Violet, it turned out, was a gold mine of information about the other people at the orphanage. Kei wasn’t sure what she was expecting when Violet said that she’d help her to make people listen to her, but the run-down felt like it came kind of out of nowhere.

“Look,” Violet explained, one day, over a bowl of canned corn that she took up to their room. “You’re gonna go home to Japan. Duh.” She shoved a spoonful of corn into her mouth and continued speaking as she chewed. “But you need to know your way around this place, because like it or not you’re kinda living someone else’s life right now, which means nobody’s gonna teach you how to navigate it. Except me,” she pointed a thumb at her chest. “You don’t have to act like Yuki, though. Obviously. If you started doing that Meredith would just think she’s right. And she does that too much already.”

The thing that Kei kind of  _ wished  _ she had a handbook for navigating was Violet’s moods. Because sometimes she was extremely talkative, listing off random details about the other kids or the volunteers, but other times she was dead silent, burying her nose in a book and finding some corner to hide in. Violet was living life according to her own rules, as she put it.

“If I don’t wanna talk, then I’m not gonna talk,” she scoffed, when Kei asked. “I don’t have weird mood swings or anything. Sometimes I feel like talking and sometimes I just wanna read. Honesty is the best policy when it comes to these things, Kei. People aren’t gonna respect your wishes if they don’t know what they are. So that’s the first lesson on making people listen to you. Being honest.”

Kei frowned. “I don’t like feeling vulnerable,” she mumbled.

“Tough cookies,” Violet shrugged. “You gotta get around that. People can sense it when you’re afraid of them, y’know? They’re like dogs. They smell it. The good ones will be nice about it. The bad ones will take advantage of it. Can’t let them do that,” she hummed. “That’s why you’ve gotta be honest. Honest and intentional. You can’t hide what you want or keep your wishes to yourself. People are gonna step all over you.”

She was pretty smart for a fourteen-year-old. Startlingly blunt. Kei found herself admiring the way that Violet talked to people. It showed in the way that she interacted with the adults at the orphanage, and the other kids. She didn’t let people pick on her. Or treat her poorly. It was… admirable.

Weeks passed without Kei noticing it. And then months. Every night she dreamed of her home, her sisters and her brother and her parents, but during the day her thoughts were consumed by Violet and the orphanage. The conversations they had and the things that they did. Volunteers were constantly coming and going. And it wasn’t as though the volunteers were particularly mean-spirited-- because in fact the lot of them were very nice. Young and optimistic. The fresh-out-of-college type person who still wanted to save the world, Violet called it. Kei thought that seemed pretty accurate.

They just left pretty quickly, was all. Kei was starting to understand why none of the kids, other than Violet, wanted to talk to her. It was because they didn’t want to get attached to anybody. And she couldn’t blame them.

“I mean,” Violet picked a flower from one of the bushes that was the exact same colour as her eyes. (They looked fragmented in the sunlight.) “We’re not gonna get adopted. You and me. ‘Cause we’re teenagers, y’know? Adults don’t like adopting teenagers. They don’t get enough raising-the-kids time, or whatever. Ugh.” She messed with the stem of her flower, glaring down at it. “But those younger kids, they probably will. They’re old enough that there’s no bed wetting or diaper changing but young enough for them not to be troublesome. Yet, anyway,” she grinned. “But anyway. Don’t take it personally if they don’t wanna be friends with you.”

With that, she turned to Kei and tucked the flower behind her ear, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face so that it would show clearly. Kei felt her cheek burn when Violet’s fingers brushed it.

“They’ve just lost so much already, it’s hard to let themselves get attached. You know?” Kei couldn’t help wondering, silently and to herself, if that was Violet’s philosophy, too. And if that was the case, why she was bothering to help Kei get adjusted to life in that place.

Aside from learning about herself and about the orphanage, Kei was, gradually, starting to learn about Violet. It took almost five months before the other girl actually divulged something about herself, quietly and in the middle of the night. Kei’s eyes were closed but she was awake, listening to the silence. Violet’s breathing was remarkably steady. Even. She honestly thought that she was asleep. But eventually the quiet was broken.

“Did you know I chose the name Violet for myself? I don’t know what my parents named me because I don’t remember them. But my eyes are purple so that’s what I went for.” She sighed, and Kei wondered what expression she was making. “It’s not even the right shade.”

“I think Violet is a good name,” Kei said quietly. She never knew what to say during sensitive conversations, ever, really, but for some reason with Violet the words didn’t need to be well thought out. They just… came, like they’d been there the whole time. “One of my sisters chose her own name. Maemi. Probably for a different reason than you, though.”

“Maemi,” Violet sounded thoughtful. “I think I kind of like Kei more.”

“I-- Well, I’m glad she  _ didn’t  _ choose Kei, since that would’ve been pretty awkward for me,” Kei muttered, and Violet laughed-- which wasn’t an oddity per se but it was still something that only happened once in a while, and thus it felt… special. Heartwarming beyond what Kei was capable of putting a word to. “Thanks for telling me,” she added, more quietly.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Violet sounded nonchalant again, but it was a tone that she adapted whenever she was embarrassed, Kei was learning to realise. The thought made her smile.

\---

The next day, Aki acts like the whole crying thing didn’t happen. Well… kind of. That’s not to say that she doesn’t act different. She wakes up an hour before they agreed to do so and is fully dressed by the time Rantaro’s alarm coaxes him out from under the covers. In essence, she’s facing the day with a new enthusiasm, a new intensity that wasn’t there the day before. And honestly, Rantaro doesn’t think it’s such a bad thing.

Around an hour later they find themselves back at the street corner they came to yesterday, and then it’s the same deal. Going into stores and asking questions, seeing if anybody’s seen anything, remembers anything. Sometimes they do. Often they don’t. Usually it would be discouraging but Aki is so… bright, today, it’s hard for Rantaro to feel that way. Eventually their sources lead them into some kind of dead end, an old, abandoned construction site with businesses lining either sides of the street, and for a minute Rantaro thinks that they made some kind of mistake, but Aki just makes a determined expression and marches into one of the shops nearby.

Shuichi slips his arm through Rantaro’s as they follow Aki inside, and when the door shuts behind them Rantaro looks up to see her chating with a store owner, showing pictures of her twin sister and asking if she’s seen ever anybody who looks like she does. “Nowadays she’d probably look something like me,” Aki says with a smile. “But it’s been so long since I’ve seen her I really couldn’t tell you for sure.”

“Mm, disregarding the sudden burst of enthusiasm,” Shuichi murmurs, resting his head against Rantaro’s shoulder. “I think I could learn something from your sister when it comes to charisma.” Rantaro smiles at the raise of Shuichi’s brow, squeezing his arm. “She shares that quality with Mina. Extremely… charming. That would help me a lot in my field. And on the search, of course, but it’s a lot easier to get potential murder suspects to open up to you if you’re a bit of a charmer, in my opinion.”

“I think that sounds about right,” Rantaro chuckles. “You’re plenty charismatic, just not overtly like Aki is. There’s a reason why everyone had a crush on you back in high school.”

Wrinkling his nose, Shuichi says, “I think you’re projecting a bit there, lover boy,” and it makes Rantaro laugh a bit louder than he means to, reaching up to cover his mouth and muffle the sound. Thankfully, neither Aki nor the shop owner appear to have heard (or cared, rather) the sound.

“Please stop spending time around Miu,” Rantaro sighs. “I’m glad you two are close now but if you started calling me lover boy as a regular thing, I don’t think I’d be able to handle it.”

“Mm, I’m sorry,” Shuichi smiles, sounding not even the slightest bit sorry. “Her manner of speaking is contagious. Not that I’d ever be so vulgar,” he pauses. “Unless you’d like it if I was?”

  
“God,” Rantaro groans, and covers his face with both his hands. “First of all,  _ no,  _ and second of all-- I know Aki isn’t listening, but the fact that you’re saying these things in the presence of my sister makes me want to die.” Shuichi giggles, kissing him chastely on shoulder before turning back to look at what the woman in question is doing. She has a notepad out, it seems, and she’s writing down things that are being relayed to her by the shop keeper. After a moment, she looks up and thanks the older woman, very warmly, before walking back over to Shuichi and Rantaro.

When the three of them are out on the sidewalk, Aki glances down at her notepad before flipping it closed and tucking it into her pocket. “So. She said that a little girl with a Japanese accent came into her shop around ten years ago and asked for the directions to the local police department. She would’ve driven her personally but there was nobody else manning the shop that day so she had to settle for telling the girl-- well, probably Kei-- how to get there in as detailed a way as possible.”

“She went to the police?” Shuichi frowns, resting a hand against his chin. “Mmm… your sister was practical, Aki.”

“Well, she tried to deny it,” Aki smiles, but Rantaro notices a hint of sadness in it, reflecting in her blue eyes. “Kei hid behind me a lot. But she had a great mind. She must’ve already been lost when she got here.”   
  


“I know her phone probably got stolen,” Rantaro muses, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because when I tried calling her nobody answered, until eventually a man picked up and yelled at me in English to stop calling. Imagine being that audacious,” he chuckles, and Shuichi frowns at him so he averts his gaze, clearing his throat. “Anyway, if she went to the police then her goal was to get back to the hotel. Or even contact our parents. I don’t know why she wouldn’t have.”

“Maybe something happened to her along the way?” Aki suggests, in a slightly strained voice. “Like, she  _ couldn’t  _ get to the police station, for some reason?”

“Well, I wouldn’t rule it out,” Shuichi hums. “But we should still check. The police station is the next stop on our list.”

“You’re the detective,” Rantaro nudges Shuichi’s arm with his elbow, smiling, and catches the soft smile his boyfriend shoots back his way. “Police station it is.”

“You two and your looks,” grumbles Aki as they start walking. “You’d think I’m in a foreign country with Jack and Rose.”

“Bet you wish Jack was here,” Rantaro grins, wiggling his eyebrows at her. Aki rolls her eyes, but doesn’t deny it, a begrudging smile appearing on her face, and Rantaro begins to laugh.

\---

Kei lived at that orphanage for three years. Actually, she lived there just a little bit longer than three years; she could have left as soon as she turned eighteen, but the thing was…

Violet’s birthday, or at least what they had on records for her (because of course they didn’t  _ really  _ know when she was born) was in December. Kei  _ could  _ have left, but she didn’t want to, not without Violet. And it was… less, at that point, because Violet had promised to help her go home. That was part of it, albeit a smaller part of it than it used to be, but the real reason why Kei didn’t want to leave the orphanage before Violet could was because she… she didn’t particularly want to go  _ anywhere  _ that Violet couldn’t.

They hadn’t spoken about it. Violet was good at communication most times and Kei was getting better (had to, after three years) but she was no expert. Whether Violet was conscious of the same things as Kei was or not, it was difficult to tell, but perhaps she didn’t say anything about it because Kei didn’t. Whatever the case was, what was between them was tentative and Kei didn’t want to shatter it with presumptions. Nor did she want to leave her behind in an orphanage which, her entire life, had been trying to suffocate her.

So she waited. And when Violet turned eighteen in the eyes of the law, on a balmy December morning that was to Kei like a day in the middle of July, she had been employed for several months already, working a job at a diner fifteen blocks-- exactly-- from the orphanage, and she used the money she saved to buy them an apartment. It wasn’t something they really talked about either, that they’d be living together, but when Violet had her bags packed and Kei had hers, they looked at each other for a long moment, and then Violet said, “Well, it’s what we’re used to,” and she had a good point.

Even after Kei physically left the orphanage, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t stop thinking about the volunteers who never stayed and the kids who feared attachment for fear of further loss. She thought about the bland food and the peeling walls and the tutor who came in once a week. And it wasn’t… fair. Kei lived there for three whole years yet in retrospect it felt to her like something of a fever dream. Like a story she read a long time ago, or a movie about somebody else’s life. She couldn’t reconcile the image of herself as she was living in that orphanage with the version she always pictured in her head.

Yet it was an undeniable thing that had happened to her. And it sat incorrectly in her stomach, like she’d found a way to force a square block into a circle hole.

Kei was never a textbook example of a person with much of a backbone. Her resolve crumbled easily. She got angry when she was made to do the things she didn’t want to but adamance wasn’t her forte. Several of her sisters, they were better at that than she was. Hikaru, Tsubaki. Even Aki, mature, understanding Aki, knew how and when to put her foot down. She chose important things and then she was vocal about them. Kei was more… the kind of person to quietly accept things, to let things go, to accept that there was nothing that she could do.

And that was her inclination with the whole square block in a circle hole thing. It was. Except that also just felt wrong. Insanely wrong. Like she was turning her back on something extremely important.

Two years after she and Violet left, Kei sat down in the living room, her legs tucked under her, while Violet bustled around in the kitchen. It wasn’t much. They could hardly afford the apartment and there was only one bedroom. They didn’t even have a phone. But they managed. And Violet was a surprisingly good cook, having never cooked prior to leaving the orphanage. She just took to it immediately. Had a natural talent for it, Kei supposed.

It was nice watching Violet cook. Soothing. Violet was a very deliberate person and thus everything she did in the kitchen was very methodical. There was something comforting and familiar in that method, that purpose that Violet put into everything. But Kei was too troubled to really derive any pleasure right at that moment.

“Violet,” she spoke aloud after a while, testing out her friend’s name on her tongue as though it was the first word in a new language she was trying to learn. “What would you say if I told you that I want to go volunteer at the orphanage?”

“That post-college altruism is real and I hope that you give Meredith lots of shit, even if she’s going to be your boss.” Violet hummed, tapping the side of her wooden spoon against the bowl she was holding in her arms. Kei heard the click when she put it down on the counter. “I would… also ask why, but you don’t really have to answer that.”

“I…” Kei wasn’t sure how to articulate what she was feeling. She laced her fingers together and lodged them between her knees, swallowing hard. “My family, back in Japan, was… wealthy. You know that. I’ve told you about it.” She heard Violet chuckling, smiled instinctively, but felt the expression fading before long. “But more importantly they were… they were good. I mean, they had their flaws.” Leaving eleven little girls in foreign countries all by themselves… talk about a serious character flaw. “But fundamentally, they were good to me. They cared about me and always made sure I knew. And because of that I… I never realised. What it was like to grow up thinking-- knowing-- that there’s no one who cares about you.”

Violet hummed again. Kei saw her leaning against the oven, crossing her arms. Her hair was still choppy (she cut it herself with the same pair of scissors they used to cut their meat) but it was longer than it was five years ago. She tied it up into a ponytail when she cooked and it made her eyes pop out. “So you want to go back and make those kids feel like there’s someone who cares about them,” she summarised. There was a pause. “And what happens when you leave?”

“Leave?” Kei echoed.

“Go back to Japan. I know that’s the plan, as soon as you’re able.” Violet shrugged. “Can’t blame you. You had a good home back there and a good family. What’s not to return to? But what about the kids who grow to care about you? What happens to them when you take off?”

Kei opened and closed her mouth. It was a good question. Blunt. Violet always hit her with those.

“It’s a good idea, Kei,” she picked up her bowl again, started stirring. “But if you’re gonna go back there then your goal has to be long-term change, not individual. Don’t get them attached to you. You’re not permanent. Get them something to be attached to.” She smiled. “I think you’re stubborn enough to do that.”

It was a solid game plan. Better, at least, than what Kei had in mind-- which pretty much involved working at the orphanage and trying to be the mother of all those kids. Violet was right; it was unsustainable. And she was right as well that Kei would be going home as soon as she got the opportunity to. She missed her family. Her mother, her brother, her sisters-- even her step-father, she missed the way he laughed sometimes when Tsubaki and Maemi’s mom made a particularly funny joke. But she missed Aki most. And even if Aki… wasn’t going to be waiting for her in Japan, she still wanted to go back. Just in case.

The only thing was, the way Violet was talking just a moment ago… it sounded like she thought Kei was going to leave  _ her.  _ And it was a valid thing to thing, it just… it didn’t feel right at all.

\---

“Kei Amami?” The person behind the desk at the police station is young. Really young, like, probably nineteen or twenty. It’s honestly not likely that he’s going to know anything at all. Still, he looks at the photograph that Aki handed him for a long moment, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Well, no, I don’t remember anyone who looks like this coming by in the time that I’ve been here, nor do I know of any records about her ever coming in. I’m really sorry.” He hands back the photograph.

To his credit, he does seem genuinely apologetic. Rantaro slides his hands into his pockets, watching Aki do the same but with the picture. “It’s okay,” she says with a tight smile. “Is there anybody who’s been working here a bit longer than you have? This would’ve happened ten years ago, so it’s not likely that… you’d have been around to remember.”

“Haha, fair point,” he adjusts his glasses and turns around in his seat. “I can run on back and ask. There are some officers who’ve been around for a  _ while  _ who might be able to tell you a thing or two, if you’ll give me a--”

“Did I hear someone out here saying the name Kei Amami?” An older woman comes out from the back. She’s dressed in a suit, actually, not a police uniform, and if it wasn’t for the badge pinned to the breast pocket of her jacket, Rantaro would think she’s a business woman or something, not a cop. Shuichi nudges his arm and mouths the word  _ detective,  _ which, now that he says it, makes a bit of sense. “Mind, I wasn’t here ten years ago, so don’t take my account at face value, but there’s a story they tell around here from time to time. Bit of a laugh, y’know?” She shrugs.

“Yeah?” Aki sounds a lot more earnest than Rantaro thinks that he would, in his position. Maybe letting her take charge on this was a good call. “I’m interested, what is it?”

“A girl came in here ten years ago, some runaway from a local orphanage, I think the girl’s name was Yuki. Anyway, she tried to tell the police that her name was Kei and she was lost, but the staff from her orphanage were all here and busted her story.” The detective shakes her head. “Hate to be in that orphanage, if she was so desperate to leave. I have to wonder how the kid even knew Kei Amami was a real person, though. Your sisters don’t make the news very often,” she directs this towards Rantaro, her eyebrows raised, and he manages a wry smile for her sake, even though his heart has begun to skip beats in his chest.

“Haha, yeah. We do that on purpose.” He clears his throat. “Did she have blue hair?”

“I think so, like hers, I’d imagine,” she gestures at Aki with her arm. “Why, does Kei have blue hair?”

“Can you-- What’s the address of the orphanage this girl was from? Yuki, I mean,” Rantaro feels scattered. The detective’s eyebrows raise further, like she’s skeptical, and she opens her mouth to speak, but there’s a sound of a pen scratching on paper and then a notecard is slid across the desk to Aki.

“There’s only one orphanage closer to this station than any of the others in the area,” the secretary smiles when he meets Aki’s gaze, a sad kind of smile accompanied by a sad light in his eyes. “Hope you find your sister.”

“Th-Thanks,” Aki picks the notecard up off the desk, looking at the man for a moment longer, and then cracks a small smile before the three of them turn to leave.

\---

Violet liked a lot of things about the apartment that she and Kei lived in. It was small, sure. Hardly any room to turn around without your elbows hitting a piece of furniture, or the other inhabitant. The hot water in the showers only lasted for about half an hour and the lights flickered in their bedroom. But it was theirs. Wholey, indisputably theirs. Something that Violet could point at and say,  _ this is mine. I have ownership of this.  _ It was Kei’s, too, not just Violet’s-- but Violet actually didn’t mind that at all, that she was sharing something with Kei. She liked it, actually. She liked it a lot.

Which would be a problem coming up here, when Kei eventually went back to Japan. That was something that Violet was kind of trying hard not to think about, though. She wasn’t very good at tricking her own mind. Whenever there was something she had to confront, her immediate thought was that it would be for the better if she just sucked it up and confronted it. She considered it to be one of her more redeeming qualities. The only thing was that that made it difficult for her to avoid thinking about things that she didn’t want to. It made it difficult to be inside her own head, at times.

Anyway, another, more shallow thing she lived about their apartment was the window in their bedroom. It was large, spanning from one side of the room to the other, and they put a long bench in by it so that they could sit in front of the window and watch the city. Canberra wasn’t so busy for a capital city, nothing like those booming epitomes of industrialisation she read about in books, but it was still nice to sit and watch the cars drive by.

That was where Violet was sitting that night, her knees tucked into her chest, when she heard the door to the room opening and closing. Kei worked late at the orphanage every night. Perhaps she did it because she wanted to build trust with Meredith, but Violet thought she did it because she cared. Kei did that a lot, cared about things. The first time she saw her, standing in the room they used to share back there, she saw it written in every line on her freckled face. The surprise, the shock, and the disgust at the place that was Violet’s home. That’s why it sucked so much, the knowledge that she was going to leave one day. Violet couldn’t even find it in herself to fault her for it.

Kei’s socked feet made faint padding noises against their carpet. But she didn’t lie down in the bed. (They only had one. Sharing a bed wasn’t a big deal to them. Or at least it wasn’t, until Violet’s heart decided to… well, that was the other thing she didn’t want to think about.) She kept on walking until she was at the window, and then she sat down on the bench, across from Violet.

Her smile was careworn but it was also genuine. She raised her eyebrows, just a short, endearing little quirk of her expression, and Violet cracked a smile of her own. Kei was awfully expressive. Even if she didn’t always realise it.

“What? The rascals wear you out so much the sight of a bed lifted your spirits?” she asked, shifting her position to give Kei more room on the bench.

“No, I had a good day,” Kei replied. She didn’t take the space that Violet offered but instead remained positioned the way she was, one of her legs folded against her chest and the other tucked in underneath. She tied up her hair when she went to work but she’d taken out the bun by then so her long blue hair, still wavy from the style, was allowed to tumble freely over her shoulders. Violet didn’t think it was entirely fair, that she could do that. “I’m just happy to see you.”

“Wow. You’re getting better at that whole, saying what you’re thinking thing,” said Violet, turning her face away so Kei wouldn’t see her blush. The laugh that bubbled out of her friend told her everything that she needed to know about the successfulness of her efforts. Incorrigible.

“I’d hope so, it’s been nine years.” Kei was smiling. If Violet looked, she knew exactly what kind of smile she’d see resting on her face. The tiny dimple in her right cheek, the familiar scrunching in her eyes and the wrinkle in the bridge of her nose. Kei was a clusterfuck of attractive little details and it drove Violet to the end of her tether. She knew the only reason she felt that way was because of the person those details belonged to, though. Her feelings for Kei had nothing to do with her being a pretty face. “You seem pensive, Violet.”

Her tone has shifted. It was more somber. Tinted with concern. Violet didn’t say anything.

“What are you thinking?”

“I hope you know how audacious of a question that is,” Violet scoffed, but managed to chance a peek over at Kei, whose eyebrows were raised incredulously. When she smiled, Violet rolled her eyes. She knew what she was going to say.

“Honesty is the best policy, Vi. If you want to say something, better say it.”

She probably wasn’t leaning in closer, like, on  _ purpose.  _ For Kei to do that kind of thing intentionally would be a low blow. The lowest. Violet’s face was definitely on fire and she had to find some way to difuse the situation. “Don’t use my words against me,” she grumbled, closing her hands into fists so she wouldn’t use them to fan her face, like she desperately wanted to.

“You gave them to me to use,” Kei sniffed. “Besides, if not words, then what else would I use to get you to tell me what’s up?”

“It’s not something that I can just say,” huffed Violet. And when Kei raised her eyebrows again, this time with genuine curiosity rather than skepticism, she let out a loud sigh. “You’re going to be the death of me, Amami.”

It was against her better judgement when she leaned in and connected their lips. But Kei tasted like peppermint and strawberry chapstick and she made a little surprised noise in the back of her throat that Violet’s heart skipped a beat over. She pulled away regardless of the voice in her head that screamed for her to continue, every instinct in her body begging her to say the words that had been on the tip of her tongue for nine years, and instead got to her feet.

“I shouldn’t have done that so now I’m just going to--”

“Wait, wait,” Kei’s hand shot out and Violet stopped-- if only because there were fingers curling around her wrist. “I--”

“Don’t you dare, don’t you say it,” Violet turned around. She didn’t know why her eyes were burning.  _ She  _ was the one who kissed  _ Kei.  _ “It’s not fair and I know what you’re going to say so I’m not going to let you. Not when you’re going to leave. I told you nine years ago. Getting attached is a mistake if you’re just going to lose again.”

“Violet,” Kei sounded slightly breathless. “I’m leaving  _ Canberra.  _ But I’m not leaving you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. How can you leave Australia without--”

“If you’d let me take you with me,” Kei paused, biting her lip. “If you-- If you were okay with, with coming to Japan with me, seeing my family and-- and whatever, I-- I’d want you to come. I’d want you to be with me.” She adjusted her grip on Violet’s hand, shifted their fingers so that they interlocked, and Violet let her. “I don’t-- I-- I want to be with you.”

For once in her life, Violet had no idea what to say. She wondered if this was how Kei felt, thrusted into conversations and situations she never asked to be, pushed out of her comfort zone for little reason other than she could be. But right at that moment, in the silvery light streaming through their bedroom window, it felt like everything that Kei was saying was the right thing.

At least, it was for Violet.

“You really mean that?”

“Entirely. Undoubtedly. And if you don’t want to leave Canberra then I’ll come back. I’ll-- I’ll figure something out. I want life to be different, Vi, but I also want-- you to be a part of it.” She released a loud breath, and Violet saw that their were tears budding in her eyes. The same kind of tears that were in her own, probably. “I don’t know how to make you believe this, prove it to you, not until it actually happens, but I promise that I--”

“I believe you,” Violet said, and she surprised herself with it-- not the sentiment but with the fervour in her voice. Kei seemed surprised too, but the shock softened into something warmer, softer, and Violet thought,  _ fuck, I’m in too deep,  _ but it wasn’t like she regretted it. Not really. “You can’t lie to save your life. So yeah, I believe you.”

“That’s a fair reason,” Kei smiled, and Violet’s mind lit up in profanity. Kei should stop smiling. Not because her happiness was problematic. Just because her smiles were war crimes and Violet was going to melt, right there, in their apartment.

She settled for connecting their lips in another kiss. Maybe Kei was going to leave, someday. But she gave Violet something she had never had before that night, and that was a promise.

\---

The area surrounding the orphanage that that secretary gave them the address to is… well, the best word that Rantaro can use to describe it is poor. But that doesn’t even begin to encapsulate the quality of the buildings they pass. He’s been in poorer neighbourhoods before, barely-together apartment complexes and homeless camps and what-have-you, but for an  _ orphanage  _ to be in a place like this gives him a weird pit in the bottom of his stomach.

And like, poverty. It’s a thing. That’s the nature of the economy that Rantaro’s been exposed to, that some people will succeed and most will be left behind in the dust. It’s just not something that he thinks about actively. Because his father is one of the people who’s succeeded. And he doesn’t think that he ever misuses his wealth, particularly, but just because he’s not consciously thinking about a thing doesn’t mean it ceases to exist. Rantaro’s always prioritised finding his family over trying to tackle all the problems in the world. It makes compartmentalising easier. But it’s hard to ignore these things when they’re right in front of his face.

“Jack and I were homeless for several years after his mom died,” Aki says quietly. The look on her face is different, Rantaro imagines, from the one that’s on his own right now. But it’s no wonder. Where Rantaro’s always been a third party, a passive observer in these kinds of settings, Aki actually lived in it for ten years. And there’s probably a reason why she and Jack never accept any kind of financial support from Rantaro’s father. “Areas like this had a lot of abandoned properties.”

“I can imagine so,” Shuichi hums. His expression isn’t troubled so much as it is thoughtful; his brow is furrowed as his grey eyes do a sweep of the area. Rantaro reaches out to take his hand and lace their fingers together. The thought that Kei might have been in an area like this, actually living here, for any period of time… it’s the same feeling he got when he realised that Mina and Aki spent a good amount of time being homeless, and that Maemi had to work for several years to save up enough money to come and find him. He feels slightly nauseous. And guilty, too-- guilty that while he’s been living so comfortably all his life the world is cruel enough that his sisters would even have conditions like that to end up in, upon getting lost.

He knows that Shuichi is looking at him but he can’t find it in himself to meet his gaze. He’s probably holding his hand just a little bit too tight, though. To his credit, Shuichi doesn’t ask any questions, just squeezes him back, and that’s a reassurance, sort of.

The thing is, they don’t even know if Kei would still be at the orphanage around here-- she’s twenty five by now, so it’s not as though she’d still be staying there, even if nobody realised that she wasn’t that orphan girl in all those years that she’s been lost. But maybe they’ll have a lead? What if Kei got  _ adopted  _ while she was there? If nobody was going to listen to her at the police station then why would anybody listen to her at the orphanage itself? Rantaro is sure that the orphanage keeps records of that stuff, but how could they convince them to share them? Not just that, but who’s to say that they’ll be accurate? After all this time…

“Rantaro,” Shuichi seems to have changed his mind about keeping his silence, though he speaks softly now, just enough so that Aki won’t overhear. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy if you keep running yourself in circles like that.”

“It’s like you can read my mind or something,” Rantaro chuckles, and from the smile on Shuichi’s face it’s pretty clear they both know that it’s strained. “I’m just… comparing this area to my neighbourhood back in Japan, is all.”

“Mm.” Shuichi leans over to kiss him on the cheek, softly-- probably more as a grounding gesture than anything really affectionate, but it’s soothing nonetheless. “That’s something that we can work on, if you want to. After all your sisters are back home.” He smiles gently, brushing Rantaro’s hair out of his face. “But you shouldn’t beat yourself up over things that you haven’t had any control over.”

Shuichi is… right. He usually is. Rantaro just wishes he felt more comforted. Before he can open his mouth to say anything else, though, Aki cuts him off.

“It’s right there,” she slides her phone into her pocket, where she had inputted the address into Google Maps, and points across the street at a large, off-white building surrounded by a tall black fence. There’s a beige sign in the front with the name of the orphanage in a gaudy black font. Several of the letters have come off, but there are impressions in the sign that show what they used to be. Rantaro eyes it warily as the three of them cross the street. This area is like a ghost town. No cars.

Perhaps Shuichi is thinking something similar, because as Aki opens the gate, he shifts from holding Rantaro’s hand to wrapping his arms around Rantaro’s left and squeezing gently. It’s like the setting of a horror film. Rantaro can only imagine how it felt to be Kei, coming into this place when she was barely fifteen. Then again-- she’d never been the type to be easily spooked.

The lawn, to its credit, is less spooky than it looks from afar. There are batches of colourful flowers planted all around the area, and the grass is a bright green. Neatly trimmed. Thorny green bushes with vibrant purple blossoms line the fence, as well as the main building itself, and they distract from the shoddy paint job just a bit. When Rantaro opens the door, he notes that it’s fairly heavy, but also that there’s a small, silver bell at the top that chimes when they enter. A cheerful red ribbon is tied to it.

Despite the appearance of the building from the outside, when they step in, they’re received by the sound of laughter. A kid with a smear of what looks to be peanut butter across his forehead sprints past them, in close pursuit by a harassed looking volunteer, and Rantaro lets out a surprised laugh. There’s a faint sound of music playing, a song he’s never heard before but one that’s simple and bright enough to be some kind of nursery rhyme, and the front desk has a large, glittery mural hung up in front of it, with both the name of the orphanage and the world  _ Welcome!  _ written in blue letters. It was obviously done by the children, but the sight of it is comforting.

“I thought I heard the bell,” a tall, older woman with grey-streaked brown hair emerges from the back room. She meets Rantaro’s eyes and a small smile appears on her face. Her eyes are a cool, clear grey, but they’re warmed by her expression, and automatically he finds himself returning the expression. “Hello, are the two of you here to make an adoption?” She’s addressing Shuichi and Rantaro when she says this (as evidenced by the way her eyes sweep between them) and Rantaro laughs quietly, shaking his head.

“No, not today,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I actually wanted to come by and ask about my sister-- the police said she was taken here ten years ago. Does the name Kei Amami ring any bells?”

The woman’s eyes widen slightly, but if the question throws her for a loop she doesn’t show it. Rantaro is half expecting her to say something like,  _ she got adopted eight years ago and I can’t give you the records, also her name was Yuki I thought?  _ but instead when she opens her mouth, what comes out is, “I’ll go grab her, I think she’s finger painting right now.”

Before Rantaro can even ask, she disappears into the back again, and they’re left standing there in the lobby, amidst the sound of children laughing and music playing.

And then from the back a young woman steps out. She’s wearing a paint-stained black apron and holding a dish rag, which she’s using to wipe yellow and red paint from her fingers. There are flecks of paint on her cheeks and the tip of her nose as well, but they’re so small they might as well just be more freckles. Her hair is a lot longer than Rantaro remembers it being, and tied up into a messy bun, but what’s most jarring, he thinks, about the way Kei looks now, is the glow of self-assurance in her face.

As she comes out from behind the desk, still distracted with the paint on her hands, she speaks. “Hi, uhm, Meredith said that somebody was here to see me?” She looks up, a bright (if slightly inquisitive) smile spreading across her features, only for it to falter in an instance. “Wh-- Rantaro?  _ Aki?” _

“Oh my god, Kei,” Aki’s hands fly up to cover her mouth, and before Kei can say anything else she throws herself forward into her sister’s arms. To Kei’s credit, she barely stumbles, bracing herself with a hand on the desk. The other goes to rest on the small of Aki’s back, and she looks, to Rantaro’s eyes,  _ shell-shocked.  _ But the tears that appear in her eyes are happy ones.

“I’m going to get paint all over you,” Kei says, and Aki mumbles something, maybe  _ shut up,  _ so Kei laughs and says nothing else.

\---

Kei seriously underestimated how good it would feel to hug her brother and sister after so many years apart.

She was reluctant to leave the orphanage. All those kids, she wanted to take them back with her to Japan. But there was nothing telling her she couldn’t visit. Plus, she had a home waiting for her, a family. And maybe a new orphanage to start, back in a country where she actually felt comfortable speaking the language. There were kids out there who didn’t have homes, orphanages that lacked colour and directors like Meredith who lost their passion for the work they did but only needed a push in the right direction. That was Kei’s goal, her mission. She wouldn’t be satisfied with anything else.

And all of that aside, as nice as they were, the sunny Decembers and the snowy Julys… Kei wanted to show Violet what her own autumn looked like. It had been years since she experienced the birthday that her twin sister was named for, and she desperately wanted to feel that way again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took me so long to write i'm not even proof reading i live life on the edge
> 
> lksdjfklj kei and violet weren't GOING to be lesbians but that's just how the pussy crumbles. damn these girls y'know. no choice but to stan
> 
> uhhhhh cool. see y'all next month


	8. Hikaru Akamine Amami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings for guns, graphic descriptions of injuries, mentions of death, and implied violence
> 
> vinh is pronounced "win"

Saigon City was absolutely gorgeous. Especially at night, when the sun went down and all the different coloured buildings cast neon reflections on the water… it was a breathtaking city, full of light and sound. Hikaru even spoke Vietnamese fairly well, so as she followed her family down the streets, she heard whisps of phrases that she understood. Endearments, admonishments. Tintinnabulation-like laughter. It was nice.

Except that it also fucking wasn’t.

Hikaru hated traveling with every single fibre of her being. The practice was cursed! Literally, nothing good had ever happened to her while traveling. Hikaru had eleven sisters, or at least she should have-- thanks to these stupid vacations and business trips that her stupid step-father has been dragging them all around on for years, she’s now down to three. It was stupid! What kind of moron loses a child and thinks, well, that’s not so bad, I’m just gonna keep on traveling!

It wasn’t even just stupidity though was the problem. It was indifference. Right before they went to Vietnam, they went on this stupid tour of Europe and lost four of her sisters. Consecutively! Not to mention that in Berlin a couple months ago, they lost Hikaru’s baby sister. She loved all of her sisters, but Satsuki, who disappeared in Germany, was her biological, real sister. She had memories of cradling her in her arms back when she was just a lump in a pile of blankets. But now she was gone and they were treating it like she was never there in the first place.

...Okay. Maybe that wasn’t entirely fair. Her other sisters, the ones who remained. Mina, Kei, and Koharu. They weren’t doing that. Rantaro, her older (and only) brother, he definitely wasn’t doing that. He stayed out all night in Berlin looking for Satsuki. Actually, he stayed out all night everywhere looking for everyone. Hikaru was good at being mad at people-- like, really good at it-- but she could never be mad at Rantaro. She couldn’t! He was too fucking patient, and like, _ sad, _she felt like kicking a puppy.

(Also, he just, he blamed himself so much for all their sisters even though it literally was not his fault, Hikaru felt guilty piling onto that. So maybe she was nicer to him than other people. Whatever. You try being mad at Rantaro Amami and see where that gets you.)

It was hard not to be a little bit peeved at Kei and Koharu, though. Hikaru tried not to, because again with the guilt thing; Kei rarely even spoke anymore since Aki vanished (not that she spoke much in the first place, but Aki was always able to translate for her when she was still around) and Koharu was so quick to burst into tears nowadays, it was just. Hard to stay pissed, was all.

She could do it though. She _ totally _ could. Because Hikaru was good at that. Besides, when she was putting her energy into being mad at Koharu for sneaking out of the hotel with Satsuki when she _ knew _ how bad it was when Kei and Aki did it and she _ knew _ that their family was fucking cursed, for letting Satsuki get hurt, for leaving her _ alone, _she had none left to be sad that Satsuki was gone in the first place. Couldn’t cry over a baby sister going missing if you were pissed and making someone feel even worse about it. Hikaru hadn’t made anything but angry eye contact with Koharu in months.

She… felt the slightest bit bad about it, but not too much. Koharu’s biological younger sister, Mahoko, got lost in Italy right after Satsuki disappeared. They were on the same boat, really. And Koharu was _ not _doing well with Mahoko gone.

But that wasn’t Hikaru’s problem! If she was gonna feel shitty about Mahoko then maybe she should’ve considered not losing Satsuki! Hm? Huh? Hmmm?

Hikaru was mad at Mina, too. Because Mina was stupid and dumb like Rantaro but she didn’t have any of that guilt stuff, which meant she was trying to play the moderator, which meant on their first night in Saigon City, when they got to their hotel, Mina asked to share a room with Hikaru, and then they were just sitting there for a minute.

And then Mina said, frowning, a disappointed crease in her brow that reminded her of the time she accidentally broke her step-father’s printer, “You’re being a brat, Hikaru.”

“A brat?” Hikaru parroted. She crossed her arms and pouted, glaring out the window. “I’m not being a brat. What are you talking about?”

“You’re making everyone else miserable.” Mina sat down on her bed, kicking her legs. She looked so much like Rantaro and Hikaru’s step-dad. Of course she did; she was his daughter. And she reminded Hikaru of him a lot, even if she was kinder and more friendly and a lot more stupid. “Especially Koharu. What happened to Satsuki wasn’t her fault.”

“Yeah it was,” Hikaru scoffed. She didn’t say anything else. Didn’t wanna dignify Mina’s intervention with a real answer. Instead she pressed her lips together and glared down at the floor, crossing her arms.

Mina sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I know you don’t think we should’ve come here.”

“What kind of placation is that?” Hikaru groaned, kicking her suitcase. Mina frowned over at her. It was a face people made at her a lot, the, _ you’re really not making this any easier on me, _face. Well, good! She wasn’t trying to make this any easier on anybody! She was trying to make things harder. Stupid Mina, stupid Koharu. Stupid step-dad. She wanted to go home. With her sisters, preferably, all of them, even the stupid ones. “Of course we shouldn’t have come here. We shouldn’t have gone anywhere. We should’ve stopped traveling when Kikuko got lost!” She wasn’t trying to yell. The hotel walls were thin. But she couldn’t help it. And she didn’t care, anyway. Didn’t care about not embarrassing her stupid family.

Mina flinched at Kikuko’s name. Hikaru felt a little guilty and immediately piled over that with anger. How could she react that way? That was _ her _ baby sister, lost in the middle of the _ fucking forest. _ At least with Satsuki she was in the city, a doctor or a paramedic could’ve found her lying on the sidewalk with her head bleeding. Kikuko was probably dead! And Mina couldn’t even hear her name when she was staging an intervention? Fuck this! _ Fuck _this!

“But we probably would’a lost them anyway,” Hikaru said, wiping at her eyes. She wasn’t crying. “Since this family is stupid and cursed.” She kicked her suitcase over and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Everything was static-y and way too loud, her breaths coming in hot and sharp, her throat closing up. She was _ not _ crying. She didn’t feel bad about how hurt Mina looked, or the fact that people probably hear her yelling. Who cared? Who _ cared? _

She found Rantaro’s room and opened the door. It was unlocked. Which was stupid, but it was fine. He got his own room, probably ‘cause he was a boy, but that was fine too, because Hikaru didn’t wanna see anyone else right then. She slammed that door also.

Rantaro was sitting on the bed, but he stood up when she came in, his brow creasing in a different kind of concern than Mina’s, a frown appearing on his face. “Hikaru? Are you o--”

Hikaru took long strides forward and threw her arms around him, shoving her face into his chest, knocking him back onto the bed. She wasn’t crying. Nope.

(Rantaro rested a hand on the top of her head, his fingers combing through her hair, and she made a weepy little noise that wasn’t a sob.)

\---

Shuichi sits down on the edge of the boat as Rantaro hops off and onto the deck, pulling the boat along by its lines to tie it down. He’s seen Rantaro tying knots countless times over the past eleven years, but he’s still a bit transfixed by how expertly he manipulates the rope, callused fingers pulling the line into a tight knot. Snazzy. When Rantaro’s hands fall still, they stay there for a moment, and it takes Shuichi a second to realise that this is because Rantaro is looking at him. He lifts his gaze. Meets green eyes and a smirk. Scoffs, gets a handful of sea water, and flicks it into his face.

“Rude,” Rantaro says, blinking and wiping his face off on his shirt. He grins, though. “Eleven years together and you  _ still  _ oppress me.”

“Mmm. The price you pay for my comfort,” Shuichi returns, getting up. He unzips and then unclips his life vest, moving over to the cabin to toss it down. “Kiyo, how are you feeling? We’re at the beach now if you want to come onto, ah, solid ground.”

“That might be wise,” Kiyo says from below deck, his face pressed into a pillow. Shuichi covers his mouth with a hand to stifle his laugh. He was really excited when Kiyo offered to come with them to Puerto Princesa for the weekend, if only because he hasn’t seen the man in so long. Or-- well, he saw him a year ago, back in London, for the opening of the new Hope’s Peak Academy. Actually, that’s how they got back in consistent contact. But Kiyo is so busy, always traveling the world for some kind of anthropological study, it’s hard to find time to settle down and get coffee. Especially since Shuichi and Rantaro are out of town every other week.

(You’d think that things would’ve slowed down a bit since they’ve found more than half of Rantaro’s sisters, but uh, _ no. _Kikuko has been taking them all over the globe. They flew out to Cape Town last week and Shuichi’s arm still aches from all the vaccinations he had to get. Also, going to Russia in the middle of winter last year? Was a mistake.)

Kiyo sits up, and Shuichi smiles at him, leaning on the door to the cabin. Back in high school, it was rare for Kiyo to take off his mask, like, _ ever. _Shuichi saw him without it a total of twice the entire three years that they were in school together, which is. It’s a lot, frankly. There were some reasons for that that Shuichi doesn’t really understand completely, but he knows they were deeply personal.

He also knows that Kiyo isn’t wearing the mask anymore. It took Shuichi off guard last year, going to the reunion and running into him, bare-faced in front of god and everyone, but there he was. Another thing to note? God this man is pretty. Like, Shuichi is head over heels for Rantaro and has been for over a decade, but Korekiyo is genuinely stunning. It’s something that he knew, back when he was wearing the mask all the time, but didn’t _ know _completely. Now he does. It’s almost distracting, which is a bit embarrassing because Shuichi is a grown ass man, but like. Semantics.

“What is the weather like out there?” Kiyo asks, mounting the ladder. Shuichi moves back to allow him space to climb up, and then extends a hand. Another thing Korekiyo has discarded since high school: his bandages. There are dark scars that snake their way up to his elbows on either of his arms. But Shuichi couldn’t judge those. He’s got plenty of them himself.

“Ah, sunny,” Shuichi smiles slightly, hoisting Kiyo up above deck. He’s grown since their first year, but only another inch or so. It’s still a bit intimidating, how tall Korekiyo is. Shuichi leans against the edge of the boat as he watches his friend discard his life vest, fixing his cap over his dark hair. It’s longer than it was at the ceremony in London, but that’s to be expected. Hair grows. It brushes the top of his shoulders, now. “It’s August, after all,” he gestures up at the sky, a clear, bold blue, and hums. Looks over to Rantaro, who’s sifting through their permits, his brow curled. “Everything alright?”

“Sure,” Rantaro looks up, smiling. “Just don’t like how many of these say my father’s name, haha.”

Mmm. Yeah. That’s not really the best for their mission here, considering that they’re trying to be covert. The alternative puts their lives at risk. Shuichi bites his lip.

The odds of them finding Kikuko here are laughably low. They’re not really here to look for her, since they _ know _ she’s been in South Africa more recently than she’s been in the Philippines. Or at least, that’s what the evidence suggests. They don’t really know how to track her footsteps other than by following her kills. And there haven’t been any _ kills _in Puerto Princesa.

But there has been a spike of disappearances in recent months. Specifically young, five to six year old kids, hiking the trail up there. The very one where Rantaro lost his youngest sister. Shuichi uses his hand to block out the sun, squinting over at the woods. He’s only been on that trail a couple times. Mostly because whenever they go, Rantaro gets his hand in a tight, nearly bone-crushing grip, and doesn’t say anything until they’re out. It’s not a particularly pleasant thing for either of them, and now that they know Kikuko isn’t even there, there’s no point in going.

Or at least, there hasn’t been. But Kiyo is interested in the chrysanthemum case from an anthropological viewpoint, and is also interested in helping Rantaro finding his sister, so when Shuichi mentioned they were going, he hopped on board. They had to wait until _ this _trip specifically to actually brief him on the details, on account of it not being safe to discuss in the presence of other people. Thankfully, Kiyo is pretty good at taking things into stride. His below-deck sickness earlier was on account of the rocking of the boat, not the killings, or the fact that he’s about to poke a murder cult with a stick for friends he hasn’t seen more than once in the last eight years. Shuichi really appreciates that about him. And everything about him. Kiyo is a good friend.

“No biggie!” Rantaro says decisively, exhaling and hanging the permit off the side of the boat. He extends a hand for Kiyo, to help him onto the dock. “We’re on vacation. Rich people do that. Hanging out with our pal Kork here.”

Kiyo gives Rantaro an odd look. “Do not call me Kork.”

“Why not?” Rantaro grins. “I think it’s a great nickname.”

“Yes, but Kokichi called me Kork often back during high school. You can understand why I don’t appreciated the reminder,” Korekiyo wrinkles his nose, looking deeply distasteful, and Shuichi laughs. Rantaro reaches out to help him off as well, so Shuichi reaches out and curls their fingers together, stepping up.

Rantaro pulls him into a brief embrace, leaning down to press a light kiss to his shoulder, where his shirt slipped down when he got up. Shuichi hums. He smells sweaty, but familiar and comforting as well, the way he always does. He squeezes Rantaro around the middle and then they pull back. The smile on Rantaro’s face is softer, now, his green eyes lit up. “I’m not making any Kork-related promises here. Kokichi is a bastard but he’s my _ favourite _bastard.”

“What’s the game plan for today?” Shuichi asks lightly, deciding a change of subject might be best, before Korekiyo pushes his boyfriend into the ocean. “Should we set up camp and start on the trail for tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that’s probably best,” Rantaro nods, gazing out at the beach. His curls are windswept, his eyes narrowed very slightly. Handsome man. Beautiful man. Shuichi smiles, biting the inside of his cheek. “No one’s here today, it looks like. so we can just camp on the beach. Uh, far enough away from the water that we and our stuff won’t be carried out to sea,” he smiles, a crooked expression, and rolls his shoulders.

He doesn’t say what they’re all thinking, that nobody is here on the beach right now because of all the disappearances in this area as of late. Kinda like they’re putting themselves right in the cult’s line of sight by disrupting that. But that’s what they do best. Shuichi laces his fingers together with Rantaro’s, fiercely locking away the memory of the death threat he received last year in London, after being too careless about this investigation. It’ll be fine. Rantaro wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

\---

So. Back on the topic of walking down the streets of the crowded marketplace in Saigon.

Hikaru woke up that morning in her brother’s bed, hands fisted into his shirt, and like. Hooo. That was a lot to unpack. Mostly she just avoided eye contact with him (and Mina, stupid Mina) through breakfast, instead glaring down at her lap and pretending her eyes weren’t swollen funny from crying. Pretending Mina’s weren’t either. Pretending she didn’t go and grab Rantaro’s comfort before Mina could, leaving Mina to cry alone in a bedroom where she’d never slept before, in a country where she’d never been before.

It was fine! Hikaru didn’t care. Honestly, truly, genuinely, she didn’t care at all. It was Mina’s fault for trying to call her out on something that was super valid of her. They should just all go back to Japan, really. Before anyone else got lost. She bet it would be Mina next. The whole argument thing was a death flag.

The ironic thing about it was, Hikaru thought as she trailed behind her family, hands shoved in her pockets as she wove through the crowds, she was pretty sure Mahoko thought the same thing. Mahoko had only just gotten lost in Venice, so she was on the brain a bit. She was really quiet, but Hikaru knew how to recognise anger pretty good, even if Mahoko never said anything about it. She bet that if Mahoko was here, and it was Hikaru who got lost in Venice, she’d be pissed. She’d totally be pissed.

There was a vindictive pleasure she got out of that, knowing Mahoko would be angry, and Hikaru indulged herself in it for a while, staring at the back of Rantaro’s green head. She stared so hard her vision got a little cross eyed and blurry, and there were lots of people who she kept bumping into, lots of Vietnamese apologies and chastisements that she was hearing from them. Everyone was going way, way too fast, which was so _ stupid _ after they’d lost so many people, you’d think they’d _ know _ better, not to go so fast, but there they were, speeding off into the distance. Hikaru pressed her lips together. It was almost like they _ wanted _her to get lost.

...Maybe they _ did _want her to get lost.

The thought made her stop short, stunned by the sudden conclusion, long enough that her brother’s hair started to fade out of view. Did they want her to get lost? Hikaru hadn’t exactly been very _ fun _to be around recently. She was only eleven, but she kept hearing her mom say stuff about her moody teenage years, and then laugh really super loud about it. But it wasn’t a funny laugh, it was a mean laugh. Her mom had a lot of those, mean laughs. She always really liked Satsuki so much more.

Hikaru liked Satsuki more too. Satsuki was, like, a _ brat, _but she was fun and sweet. She made things fun. Had a lot of energy. Hikaru could never be mad at her, either. Her and Rantaro… only Hikaru couldn’t see Rantaro either, ‘cause she’d not been walking for too long, and they didn’t stop, probably ‘cause they all wanted her to get lost, and all.

Well… fine! If they wanted her to be lost, if they _ hated _ her, then she’d just go and get lost. Whatever! She didn’t care. Who cared? They deserved it, anyway. They _ deserved _ to lose someone else. Not Rantaro, but Mina and Koharu and Kei and her stupid mom and her stupid step-dad, they deserved it. Served them right for walking too fast! If they wanted Hikaru gone, then she wouldn’t come back! Actually, she hoped they _ didn’t _want her gone, so it would hurt even more when they realised she was! Hah! Take that, stupid!

Instead of going after them, Hikaru turned around and started off in the other direction. She had a handful of currency, in the event that she got lost and needed to get something for herself, but fuck it. She was gonna buy a sesame bun and walk around aimlessly. They’d probably find her by that point, anyway, and they sure will have learned their lesson.

So Hikaru bought her sesame bun. She walked for a little bit with a mom and two kids (a mom who would never lose her daughter in a street market) and said how her family was waiting for her back there and she was just exploring a little bit and it was fine. She liked speaking Vietnamese. It was a tough language, _ much _harder than Japanese, but that fascinated her. Hikaru loved linguistics, she found them to be so interesting. The one good thing about these stupid trips was all the languages she got to learn. And she was no Rantaro and no Mina, but she was still pretty good at language. She had a pretty good grasp of English, and Vietnamese, and bits and pieces of French and Spanish and German.

...Not that it mattered, since, Rui and Aki and Kasumi and Tsubaki and Satsuki were all still gone in those countries anyway. And Hikaru was gone too in Vietnam, but she didn’t really think about it like that. She wasn’t really lost. She was just, y’know. Wandering for a bit. Teaching her family a lesson. They were just gonna find her and it was gonna be fine. Whatever. They deserved it anyway.

Ugh, her legs were tired though. She didn’t like walking around so much. Hikaru pursed her lips a bit and walked over to the curb, plopping herself down between two stands, drumming her fingers on her knee. She was tired and her hands were sticky with red bean paste. She’d rest for a bit, and when she woke up, they’ll have found her. And they’ll be mad. But it’ll serve them right. Haha.

\---

Shuichi gets up before the sun rises the next day, which isn’t normal for him. The forecast (which Rantaro checked when they still had cell service) said that it was gonna be a clear night, so they slept out under the stars last night. No tent. They set up a tent, of course, just in case, but… that probably won’t be necessary. The sky is a pure, dark azure. He can’t see the stars anymore, probably because the sun will be touching the horizon soon. It’s a bit lonely, actually, seeing the sky so empty. At least he has the moon to keep him company.

Ugh, he has to pee. Shuichi digs around in the pocket of his sleeping bag until he finds his flashlight, and then he shuffles out, hissing and shivering at the cold. It’s not that chilly out but compared to his warm sleeping bag with Rantaro’s toaster self right next to him… yeah. He grabs his sweatshirt and pulls it on over his head, stepping into his sneakers and relacing them before he gets to his feet.

Ah… wait. He crouches back down again, brushing Rantaro’s hair out of his face and kissing him on the forehead. There we go.

Back up again. Shuichi fixes his headlamp around his temples and slides his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt, shivering again. Yeah, that’s really cold.

The pit toilet is some ways away, and it always makes Shuichi anxious using it, so he just finds a patch of bushes a little ways down the trail and does his business. There’s this point system Rantaro talks about sometimes, about using the restroom when you’re in the woods. It’s like, one star if you see an animal, two if you make eye contact, three if they are also… doing their business. Rantaro can be kind of weird sometimes. It’s endearing, though. Even if Shuichi gets a bit anxious at the prospect of making eye contact with a pissing deer.

So, anyway. Shuichi looks up at the moon through the leaves overhead as he rubs hand sanitiser into his palms, humming. It’s a really nice night. An extraordinarily nice night, in fact. The nights in August are always the best. A good cool-down after the stifling heat. Shuichi closes his eyes, drinking in the moment. The air is really fresh out here, too. This would be a fantastic spot if not for all the tragedy here. Maybe one day, after they find Kikuko, he and Rantaro can come back, and just--

A twig snaps off on his right, further down the trail. Shuichi startles, his eyes flying open, and turns his whole body, searching wildly until he sees the cause. It’s not a deer, which was his initial assumption, but in fact a person.

A girl, with short green hair and freckles and wide, startled green eyes. Shuichi’s heart stops in his chest. He can barely see her in the darkness (he had turned off his headlamp upon arriving here, since he feels weird using the restroom with it on) but he can make out a few things. Her jacket is old. There’s a gun at her hip and in one of her hands. A knife sheathed on her leg. She must be twenty years old.

There is a… bundle of white chrysanthemums, in her other hand.

Shuichi finds his voice. “Kiku--”

She startles, scrambles back, and then turns and sprints off down the trail. Shuichi fumbles for the on switch on his headlamp and tears after her, his heart pounding in his chest.

\---

Hikaru woke up. She was decidedly _ not _found yet.

Ugh, what time was it? She was stiff and a bit cold. She stretched out her legs in front of her. The street was mostly empty, and the sky was the pale blue it only got _ really _early in the morning. A couple of the stands had people working them, but aside from that there was pretty much nobody around. It was like a ghost town. Before she could even think better of it, Hikaru was on her feet, wandering away from her resting place.

Mmm. This was weird. It must have been the next morning, which meant it was a whole day since she sat down. Got lost.

But-- she wasn’t lost. She hadn’t even really _ gone _anywhere. They were gonna find her really super soon, it was just… taking them a long time, that was all. Stupid them. Probably her step-dad, making things hard for Rantaro to find her. Big dumb.

Oh. Rantaro.

Hikaru stopped walking for a minute, wincing. Rantaro was probably worried sick. She wasn’t doing this to punish him, just her mom and his dad and their sisters. He was like, what was the word, collateral damage. Mmm. The thought made her feel a bit sick to her stomach, for some reason. She didn’t want _ him _to freak out over this, just the rest of them. But she knew he would. She knew he’d freak out. He’d freak out and look for her and he wouldn’t find her and then he’d blame himself for that too.

...No, he’d find her. He was gonna find her. Stupid thinking that stuff. Hikaru wasn’t lost!

It was okay. She’d just go back to where she was before and make it _ super _ easy on them so they could find her. Wait, no, not on _ them, _just on Rantaro. It’s not like anyone other than Rantaro would bother looking anyway. Yeah. Yup. Uh-huh. It was just Rantaro. He was the only one who she was trying to make this easier on and nobody else.

As Hikaru wandered, looking for the spot where she broke off from the group, she felt slightly nauseous. She didn’t remember any landmarks from the spot, couldn’t tell from the red bricks beneath her feet. All she knew was that there were a lot of people and the back of Rantaro’s head. But good luck to her finding _ that. _Ugh. This shouldn’t have been so difficult. Hikaru pressed her lips together, feeling a mild burn behind her eyes. She didn’t like this at all, being lost. It sucked.

NO! She wasn’t lost! God, why did she keep thinking that? Rantaro was gonna come find her! Jesus christ, what was wrong with her? She was being so stupid. She wasn’t lost. She wasn’t lost!

“I’m not lost!” Hikaru said, aloud, to nobody in particular.

“Uh, hi,” said a girl’s voice, also aloud, but in Vietnamese. Hikaru squawked, jumped, and turned around, nearly hitting this girl in the face. She managed to avoid doing so though, which she thought was very cool and composed of her. The girl who spoke was very, very pretty. She had darker skin and straight, even brown hair, tucked out of her cool, chocolatey almond-shaped eyes. There was a beauty mark on her chin and an incredulous expression on her face. Hikaru stared at her, her mouth open. “Sorry, I don’t know what you just said, but I’ve been following you for a little bit. Are you lost?”

“I’m not lost,” Hikaru said firmly in Vietnamese, a bit angrily. The girl raised her eyebrows. “I’m not!” she snapped. “I’m just walking around while I wait for my family to come get me, that’s all! They’re coming. They _ are,” _she added sharply, glaring at this girl, who gave her another weird look and then shrugged.

“Okay. They’re coming,” she agreed. Hikaru relaxed. At least this girl and her stupid pretty face had one thing straight. “Uhm. Can I show you somewhere to sit, though, instead of walking around? I bet they’ll come find you easier if you’re staying in one place. Plus you look tired and the market is gonna be really crowded really soon.” The girl turned and pointed back at one of the stalls. They appeared to be setting up fish. “That’s my parents over there, so, I know this place pretty well.”

Somewhere to sit, huh? Hikaru considered it, chewing her lip. “Sure,” she said eventually, a bit quieter than she was before. Now that this girl was listening to her, she felt almost a bit embarrassed about yelling. “I’m Hikaru,” she added. “Uhm. Not that you asked, but--”

“Vinh,” the girl replied, beaming. “You’re not Vietnamese, are you, Hikaru? You have an accent. And Hikaru isn’t a Vietnamese name.”

“Oh, no,” Hikaru smiled a bit. “I’m Japanese. My family’s here on vacation.” Her smile dropped. Stupid vacation. Ugh. She’s so mad still. Vinh looked at her curiously, for a long moment, and then shrugged. Pointed in a direction.

“C’mon, there’s a bench over this way. I’ll bring my breakfast over, since I was about to eat.” She looks at Hikaru for a minute. “Do you want some too? It’s just congee, but it’s good. I’m good at congee.”

Hmm. Vinh’s expression was almost uncertain. But Hikaru was really hungry, so she shrugged her shoulders and nodded. “Okay. Sure. Congee sounds nice.”

Vinh beamed again. Wow, she was pretty. Hikaru blinked, realising that she was walking, and hurried a little bit to catch up to her.

\---

Hard to run up a hill in the woods in the dark, but that doesn’t stop Kikuko, from what Shuichi can tell. She moves deftly, quickly, a sort of grace to her he hasn’t even seen matched in _ Maki, _ and Maki and Kikuko are quite literally in the same boat. He’s barely running for three minutes before he loses sight of her, and then his foot catches on a root, and he trips, slamming _ hard _into the ground. The wind knocks out of his lungs and he winces at how hard his teeth knock together, grateful that his tongue wasn’t between them, hissing out a pained exclamation at the ache in his ankle, his knees, his chin.

God, this was so _ stupid. _Why did he think he had any chance of catching her? Over fifteen years of training, of course she’s going to outrun him without even thinking about it. Not to mention that going after her when she has a gun in her hand was a bad call in the first place, but he wasn’t thinking about that. He just… he saw her, and then his instincts took over, and the next minute he was giving chase.

_ Ugh, _if there was any hope of discretion before now, it’s vanished. Shuichi presses his face into the dirt, swallowing hard. He really doesn’t wanna die. He doesn’t want anyone to have to deal with that. He doesn’t want himself to have to deal with that. Another hiss escapes him as he rolls over onto his side, untangling his foot from the root and curling up there on the ground. He allows himself another moment to catch his breath, and then sits up, aiming his flashlight to access the damages.

His knee is scraped and bloody, bits of dirt and small twigs mingling and making Shuichi’s stomach turn looking at it. He pulls his sleeve over his hand and brushes them away, clenching his teeth at the sting. He can roll his ankle without any real pain, so he’s pretty sure it’s fine. His chin hurts, but it’s not bleeding. He brushes it with the back of his hand and then exhales, pressing his hands into the dirt beneath him and pushing himself to his feet.

His legs are shaky enough that for a moment he has to hold himself up on a tree, catching his breath. What is he going to tell Rantaro? What is Rantaro even going to say? He saw his sister who has been missing for fifteen years and then lost her? God. Shuichi feels a lump start to rise in his throat, a burn at the corners of his eyes. There must be something that he could’ve done differently, some way he could’ve gotten her to stick around rather than taking off.

No use dwelling on that now, though. Shuichi makes his way back down the path on shaky legs, his hands clenched into fists in his pockets. Ugh. He feels terrible. The feeling of dread in his stomach only increases when he comes back down onto the beach and sees that the sun has risen, and Rantaro and Kiyo are awake.

Rantaro’s eyes catch on him when he gets within a couple yards, and then he’s on his feet, rushing over and grasping his shoulders, looking him over without a word. He probably looks like a bit of a mess, admittedly. Shuichi bites the inside of his cheek, feeling guilty that Rantaro woke up and saw that he was gone. He must’ve panicked. He’s always so much more on edge whenever they come here. Rantaro’s gaze is light and sweeping, but Shuichi still can’t meet the question in his green eyes; he casts his own towards the ground, furrowing his brow, rolling words over in his head.

“What happened?” Rantaro asks gently. He brings his hand underneath Shuichi’s chin and lifts his face so their eyes meet. He doesn’t seem upset, just worried, but if anything that almost makes Shuichi feel worse. He knows Kiyo is looking at them, too.

He swallows, then clears his throat. “I went a bit onto the trail to use the restroom,” he begins, and Rantaro nods, thankfully not saying anything about that. Neither of them particularly care for pit toilets. It’s not a big deal. “And I was looking up at the sky for a minute afterwards, just, thinking, and a twig snapped next to me so I looked, and I saw your sister.”

There’s a pause. Rantaro blinks. “You what?”

“I saw Kikuko,” Shuichi specifies, though he thinks that that should be decently obvious, if only because Kikuko is the only sister who _ could _be in this area. (Except for Maemi, who’s searching for her too, but they already know where Maemi is at pretty much all times, so… couldn’t be her.) “She was just standing there, she had a gun in her hand and flowers in the other, and she looked at me for a minute, and then I started to say her name but she ran off so I went after her, but she was going too fa--”

“Shuichi, calm down,” Rantaro says, alarmed. His hands are shaking slightly and there’s a weird look on his face, but his gaze remains fixed on Shuichi’s, his lips pressed together. “You… she was holding flowers and a gun?”

“I-- yes, she was,” Shuichi nods, chewing the inside of his cheek. “She was heavily armed, actually, I counted two other weapons on her and that was just what I could see-- she went _ really _fast, I could barely see her after only a few minutes, and we were running uphill mostly, a-- Rantaro?”

Rantaro doesn’t reply, having pulled Shuichi into a tight embrace, his face pressing into his shoulder. Shuichi reaches up to reciprocate (Rantaro is _ shaking) _and rubs his back, furrowing his brow.

“I’m sorry,” he says, more quietly. “If I had done something differently, maybe I could’ve brought her back here, or--”

“No,” Rantaro says thickly. “Shuichi, she could’ve killed you.”

...what? Shuichi blinks, frowning. His hand stills on Rantaro’s back. “What… do you mean?”

“The flowers,” Rantaro mumbles. “She leaves the flowers behind when she kills people. There was a gun in her hand. She…” he stops talking, and Shuichi feels him swallow. His voice is even thicker when he speaks again. “God, you could’ve…”

A laugh bubbles out of Shuichi, but it’s not a real laugh, it’s just an anxious reaction, something that comes out for lack of a better response. “No, I don’t think she would’ve… I mean, she was just looking at me, the gun wasn’t even raised-- and anyway, when I spoke to her she turned and ran. I don’t think she would’ve-- I mean, maybe she was intending t-- but, n-no, she wasn’t-- we’ve been careful, I--”

“Shu,” Rantaro breathes out. He squeezes him tighter. “I--” he stops abruptly and doesn’t continue. It seems as though he doesn’t know what exactly to say.

Which… is fair, because Shuichi doesn’t either. He can’t even cry over this. He doesn’t know _ how _ to respond.

_ Kikuko could’ve killed him? Was that why she was there? Could he have died just now? _

...Shuichi isn’t sure what best there is to say to that possibility. He just closes his eyes and focuses on holding Rantaro while he shakes.

\---

The bench Vinh showed Hikaru to was cold and hard, but also tucked out of the way of everything. Nobody would find her unless they were deliberately trying to find something. It was kinda neat. They sat down together and ate congee, talking quietly and watching people pass by.

“There’s no school today, since it’s the weekend,” Vinh said, leaning against the back of the bench. “But tomorrow I have class. I like going to school. I’m way ahead of everyone else in my class.”

Hikaru thought this was weird, that Vinh liked school, but she wasn’t the kind to judge. Or, well, she _ was, _but not for stuff like that. She folded her legs criss cross apple sauce, blowing on a spoonful of congee. “Yeah?” she smiled a bit, ate the spoonful, and swallowed. Vinh was right. She was good at congee. The seasoning was excellent, which was difficult to achieve sometimes with this kind of soup. “I’m really bad at math.” She nodded. “It took me until sixth year elementary to memorise my times tables.”

Laughing, Vinh replied, “Well, it’s not for everyone. But y’know, I really like math. I like science more though,” she put the bowl down on her knees, buzzing a bit. “I _ really _like science, actually. I want to be a doctor when I grow up.”

“Cool,” said Hikaru, as this was, in fact, cool. Doctors were cool people. Last time she saw her doctor he asked her where Satsuki was. She wanted so bad to just tell him. Stupid family with their stupid secrets. She should’ve said something the second Aki disappeared. “What kinda doctor?”

“Mmm, good question,” Vinh appeared to think about it. “A lung surgeon, I think. The air’s so yucky in Saigon, people can’t breathe well. I wanna help that.” She stirred her congee, her brows knitting together. “My parents don’t really want me to be a doctor, though.”

“Why?” Hikaru frowned. “Being a doctor is a good career. You make lots of money. My step-dad would love it if I was a doctor.” She stabbed her spoon into her congee, listening to the faint splash. Ugh.

Vinh raised her eyebrows. “‘Cause I’m a girl,” she said, like this should be obvious. Hikaru blinked.

“But you’re smart,” she huffed. “And you wanna do it. That sounds like a good reason for you to become a doctor.”

“Yeah, well, my dad wants me to find a husband and have kids,” she rolled her eyes. “So.” Vinh sighed, and then smiled at Hikaru. “It’s okay, though. I’ll convince them. Or work around them. One or the other. They’re family, so, y’know, I need to--”

“That’s stupid,” Hikaru said, a bit more heatedly than she meant to. “That’s really stupid. It’s not okay that they want you to do something that you’re not interested in. Or maybe you are interested in a family, I dunno, but if you wanna be a doctor then you should be a doctor. And forgiving people because they’re family is stupid too.” She shoved a spoonful of congee into her mouth and burned her tongue. “Families make lots of dumb stupid mistakes. They should be held accountable. Nobody holds anybody accountable.”

Stupid Mina. Stupid.

“So, yeah. You don’t have to work around them. If they won’t let you be who you wanna be then you just leave.” She shrugged. “Simple as that.”

“Hm.” Vinh appraised her. “You make things sound really simple, Hikaru.” She thought for another moment. “I guess I like that.”

Hikaru smiled. Duh, of course she did. Hikaru was right.

(It felt really good to hear, anyhow.)

\---

Several hours later, Shuichi finds himself hiking the trail regardless, a bead of sweat making its way down the small of his back. It took some deliberation on all of their parts, having, as they did, the knowledge that there’s an assassin in those woods, but eventually Rantaro threw his hands up and breathed out, “We might as well. We’re already here, right? Just, stick together at all times. Don’t go too far any which way without the rest of us.”

Now that the initial shock has worn off, Shuichi can tell that Rantaro is… well, maybe excited is the wrong word. But he has energy, that’s what Shuichi gathers. Based on the quick pace he sets as they make their way up the path. His grip on Shuichi’s hand is tight as usual, his jaw set and his green eyes anxious, but there’s something behind them, a… determination, of sorts. Maybe knowing that his sister was _ here _ in the last twelve hours, murder plans or not, gives him energy. There’s definitely an urgency to the way he’s moving.  
  


It makes Shuichi feel just the slightest bit more guilty, that he didn’t catch Kikuko earlier. Rantaro and Kiyo both reassured him once Rantaro had calmed down, but Shuichi still feels like there’s more he could’ve done.

“Ah, stop,” Kiyo says, all of a sudden, and Rantaro stops abruptly, turning around to where Kiyo is standing. Shuichi does so as well, searching around for his golden eyes until he sees where they’re pointed; that is to say, off the trail. “Look,” he instructs softly, lifting a finger and pointing. Shuichi follows his gaze, a frown on his face, scanning through a mess of green and brown, interlacing roots and assorted shrubbery, and--

Ah!

A white flower is resting on a log some ways into the forest. He can tell that it’s been set there, very deliberately. And it’s a bit far away, but he can tell… it’s a chrysanthemum.

Rantaro is still squinting, bewildered, into the trees. Shuichi hums, squeezing his hand, and then pulls him over and off the trail. He has to step extremely carefully, in light of there being all manners of plants and twigs blanketing the floor over here, but it’s decently flat up until the log, so they manage to reach it without falling. Then Shuichi releases Rantaro’s hand, undoing the buckles on his backpack and sliding it off, propping it up against the log and kneeling by the flower.

He doesn’t touch it. Instead he tilts his head and peers at it. It’s a white chrysanthemum. Shuichi has seen many in the past several years that he and Rantaro have been on Kikuko’s trail. There isn’t a single blemish on it, either, which is rare for flowers, but typical of Kikuko’s. She’s very deliberate about the flowers she places down. One of the traits they used in profiling her initially, when they were trying to prove that Rantaro’s sister is, in fact, the chrysanthemum killer.

Ah… actually, wait. No, there is a blemish. One of the petals has a tiny stain on it. A crimson stain. From blood spatter. Shuichi looks up with a start, his gaze darting around the area, until he spots another blur of white, several yards off in the distance. He gets to his feet and grabs his backpack, making to hurry over there, but--

“Shuichi, wait!” Rantaro’s hand curls around his upper arm, stopping him, turning him around. “What is it? Did you see something?”

“There’s another flower over there,” Shuichi explains, pointing further into the woods. “It’s… like a trail, or something. Ah, there’s a blood stain on this flower, also,” he gestures down at it. “So I think it’s possible that someone’s hurt.” _ It might be Kikuko, _Shuichi thinks and does not say. Rantaro seems to understand, though, because his expression shifts, his brow setting. He nods, releasing Shuichi’s arm. Shuichi slides his backpack over his shoulders, and Kiyo joins them at the log, so carefully, the three of them make their way further off the trail.

It’s difficult walking. Shuichi nearly trips almost four times, and would have fallen the fourth if not for Kiyo, who noticed him about to fall and steadied him with a hand on either shoulder and a small smile. The thing about walking off the trail is that, ah, they aren’t _ supposed _to. The trails are the areas that are specifically designed for people. Off the trail they’re trampling habitats, and not only that putting themselves at risk of attack by some nature of wild animal. Not that Shuichi thinks he’s about to get jumped by a tiger (are there tigers out here?) or anything-- humans are without a doubt scarier to animals than animals are to humans-- but still, it’s, a thought.

But also, they can’t just let the flower path go ignored. They count flower after flower, each one getting a little bit bloodier than the last, until eventually the white chrysanthemum on the ground is hardly recognisable as what it is. Rantaro’s grip on his hand at this point is nearly bone crushing. Terrified guilt is starting to suffocate Shuichi as his head tosses out possibilities for what might’ve happened to Kikuko, why she had to leave a trail like this, what on earth happened to her. Shuichi almost doesn’t notice it when they come out of the woods onto a different part of the trail, led completely through that section.

He does, though, when he almost trips for the fifth time, and this time Rantaro catches him, an arm slipping around his waist and pulling him closer. Shuichi opens his mouth to ask what’s the matter, and then his voice dries up in his throat.

There’s a body lying across the forest floor in front of him. It isn’t Kikuko, but a man, perhaps in his thirties, with a white flower placed over his eyes. Shuichi grips Rantaro’s arms, but he can’t do anything for the wave of nausea that hits him, all of a sudden and all at once, as he looks down at the dead man.

\---

Hikaru was left behind.

This was something that she had to come to terms with maybe three weeks after she got lost. Really after the first couple of days she should have come to terms with it, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t wrap her head around the idea that her family would just leave her like that. Not _ her. _ She got so angry over them doing it to the rest of her sisters, but she never saw it as something that would actually happen to her. The worst thing though was that it was entirely her fault. She was the one who wandered off in the marketplace. She _ deserved _to be lost.

But…

As much as she knew, deep inside herself, that that was true, she couldn’t help being angry about it anyway. They left her behind! They left her behind, just like they left Mahoko, and Satsuki, and Tsubaki and Kasumi and Maemi and Rui and Aki and Kikuko. None of the adults in her _ stupid, _stupid family cared about any of their fucking children and it was awful. It was the worst and Hikaru hated it so much.

It wasn’t like she could talk about that, though. She didn’t have her family around anymore to rage at them like she used to. In fact, the only constant presence in her life after she got lost was… well, it was Vinh.

After a while it became pretty obvious to the both of them that Hikaru was lost. In fact Hikaru was pretty sure that Vinh knew she was lost the entire time, she was just too nice to call her out on it, so she didn’t express this suspicion, and Hikaru certainly wasn’t gonna bring it up. She brought food every day though, and she really did come _ every _day, dragging her homework around and smiling wide, engaging Hikaru in conversation about whatever was on her mind that day.

“Don’t you have friends to hang out with after school?” Hikaru asked one time, watching Vinh split a banh mi sandwich in half and pass one half over to her. “Why do you come here every day?”

“I _ don’t _have friends,” said Vinh, shrugging. “My classmates think I’m nerdy. Even if I did I’d still come though. You’re nice.” She smiled. Nice, huh? Nobody had ever called her nice before. The person who came the closest was Rantaro, and Rantaro tended to cancel that stuff out by telling her he’d name his migraines after her. (Not that she minded that. God, she missed Rantaro so much.) “Besides, I’m gonna be around here anyway, since my parents run the stand. So I might as well hang out.”

Summer drew to a close. As Autumn went on, the weather got colder and colder, and Hikaru was… not really living her best life, honestly. The bench didn’t conserve heat very well, even after Vinh brought her blankets and pillows and soup, saying that she just wanted to give them to Hikaru, and not that she knew she was sleeping there. Which she obviously did; they both did. Vinh knew and Hikaru knew that she knew and Vinh knew that Hikaru knew that she knew. Just, neither of them were saying anything about it. And that was… fine, for a bit. It was fine. Hikaru really appreciated it.

And then, in October one morning, Vinh plonked herself down on the bench next to Hikaru and said, “My dad says you can come stay with us if you want.”

Hikaru blinked. “What?”

“I mean, like, stay in our apartment,” Vinh rubbed the back of her neck, sheepish. “I didn’t wanna ask ‘cause I didn’t wanna embarrass you, but also, like, y’know. It’s getting colder. So if there’s someone you wanna wait for out here, you can do that at my house instead.”

It took Hikaru a moment to process the offer. But when she did, she felt a flare of embarrassment. “What, do you think I’m homeless or something?”

“Uhm?” Vinh looked over at her. “I mean, I,” she gestured with her hands. “Y’know, you’ve been--”

“‘Cause I’m _ not _ homeless,” Hikaru said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m just waiting for my parents to come get me.” It was true, it was the truth, but also Hikaru felt icky and gross saying it, like she was lying, like she was just biting off her nose to spite her face. Still, she couldn’t help feeling undignified and angry, like Vinh was just here because she felt bad for her, like she was someone to be looked down on. She wasn’t! She had total control of the situation. It was _ her _fault she got lost. She did it on purpose, even! She didn’t need Vinh’s pity. “I don’t need to stay with you. And I don’t want you treating me like I’m pitiful.”

“Okay,” Vinh frowned at her, as though she did not really think it was okay. “That’s fine, then.” She looked away though, and Hikaru felt _ bad, _like she just hurt her feelings, and she never felt bad after snapping at people. She frowned, creasing her brow, and opened her mouth to speak. “I need to go to school. See you.” Vinh was up and gone before Hikaru could even say goodbye.

She came back the next morning, though, with two bowls of yellow sticky rice and a sheepish smile on her face. Hikaru looked at her for a moment, biting her lip, and then scooted over.

Vinh sat down.

They sat in silence for a long moment, and Hikaru focused on the sweet taste of the sticky rice, breathing in the smell of the rain from last night.

“I didn’t mean to make it like I pity you,” said Vinh after a while, when they were both pretty much done with the food. “I don’t. I know your family left you here and I don’t know why but it’s not like I pity you. I just like you a lot so I wanna bring you food and stuff.” She tapped her chopsticks against the edge of her bowl. “And winter is gonna be cold, so I want you to stay warm. My parents don’t really get it but they’re fine with it.” She frowned. “If you really don’t wanna stay with me though, that’s fine. Sorry I made you feel pitiful.”

_ You didn’t, _ Hikaru thought. _ You didn’t do anything wrong, you were just being nice. I just got mad for no reason, like I do all the time. I was just being a brat. _

She didn’t say that, though. She crushed a grain of rice under her chopsticks, furrowing her brow.

“Well, it’s okay. I’m not really mad,” she replied instead. “And anyway I thought about it some more and I decided that I’ll go stay with you.”

“Really?” Vinh looked up, her eyes wide. Hikaru met her gaze and flushed, embarrassed for some reason by the eager look in Vinh’s expression. “You will?”

“Y-Yeah, whatever,” Hikaru grumbled a bit, looking down at the ground. “It’s just until my parents come, y’know?”

“Right,” Vinh beamed. “You can come here with me every day too and look for them. I’m sure they’ll find you here eventually!”

Vinh’s optimism was infectious, sort of. Hikaru held onto it as they walked down the streets to her apartment, a small, two-bedroom place overlooking a lake. Still, there was a large part of her that knew Vinh was wrong. Her family wasn’t gonna find her. Aside from Rantaro, she doubted any of them were even gonna come back for her. It wasn’t like they really cared, anyway.

But… Vinh seemed to, for some reason, and that… was nice.

\---

Shuichi looks down at the body, his brow creasing, and then decidedly swallows down his nausea. He shrugs off his backpack, before either Kiyo or Rantaro can say anything, and drops down to his knees by the body. The man is lying on his side, his legs slightly bent, almost as though he’s in fetal position. Shuichi delicately lifts the flower from his face, noticing a large, red bump on his forehead. He leans closer to examine it and concludes two things. One, that the bump is from the barrel of a gun, slamming into his head.

Two, this man is alive. Shuichi feels the heat of his breath on his face and jerks back, startled, looking down. He’s bleeding from his lower abdomen. A bullet wound, no doubt, if the wound on his head is any indication. Shuichi curls and uncurls his hands and chokes out, “He’s alive,” before reaching over and gently grasping his shoulders, rolling the man onto his back. He can hear Kiyo and Rantaro putting down their backpacks beside him, but he’s not really sure what the protocol is here. He’s never dealt with a bullet wound before.

“Shuichi, if I may,” Kiyo’s voice, gentle and quiet, brings him out of his thoughts, an elbow lightly nudging his arm. “I’ve been to many first aid trainings. My certification may be expired by now, but I still know a thing or two about tending to injuries.”

“Ah, s-sure,” Shuichi nods, shuffling out of the way, getting to his feet on shaky legs. Kiyo removes a first-aid kit from his backpack, opening it up and pulling out a pair of rubber gloves, which he pulls on his hands before looking over the person. Shuichi averts his gaze at that point, not wanting to see the injury in any detail, and feels Rantaro curling an arm around his shoulders. He releases a breath, leaning into the touch.

“You okay?” Rantaro murmurs into his ear. Shuichi nods, closing his eyes. “You went full detective-mode there,” chuckles Rantaro, grasping either one of Shuichi’s shoulders and beginning to massage him gently. “It was extremely sexy.”

“Thanks,” Shuichi smiles wryly, meeting the glimmer in Rantaro’s eye with a slightly strained laugh. “How about you? Are you okay?”

Rantaro’s brow lowers and he bites his lip, as though thinking. Eventually he says, in a quiet voice, “It’s selfish. But I’m… relieved. For a minute I thought…” he trails off, looking over at the unconscious man, who Kiyo is currently tending to. “Yeah. I’m just… I’m glad that it’s not her.”

“Me, too,” Shuichi whispers, leaning in to kiss Rantaro on the cheek, fluttering his eyes closed momentarily. “I’m sorry. That must have been really scary, finding all of those flowers like that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rantaro says. He pulls Shuichi into a fuller embrace, tucking his arms around his waist, so Shuichi slips his around Rantaro’s shoulders, pressing his face in against his neck. Shuichi’s legs still hurt a bit from all the sticks that he stumbled into, and he’s shaking a bit from all the adrenaline. He can feel Rantaro shaking too though, gently, lightly, so he hugs him a bit tighter, opening his eyes and lifting his face to down at him as he rubs his back.

...Ah, wait, is that…?

Shuichi pulls back from the hug, squeezing Rantaro’s arm, furrowing his brow. Down the trail some ways, he sees another blur of white. Shuichi can’t tell for certain, but he tugs on Rantaro’s arm and starts over there, his heart pounding.

There it is. Another chrysanthemum. It’s stained with blood, as though someone with blood on their hands dropped it.

“Uhm,” Shuichi bends down, picking it up, cradling it between his hands. “Rantaro…”

“Oh,” Rantaro stares at the flower for a long moment, his brow furrowing. He turns to look further down the trail. Is there something else that Kikuko wants them to see? “Kiyo,” Rantaro lifts his head. “There are more flowers over here.”

“Go,” Kiyo says, waving them off. “I will still be here.” He shoots them a fleeting smile, his attention mostly taken by the man he’s tending to. “It’s just down the path, isn’t it? You should have no trouble finding me again.”

Shuichi can tell that Rantaro is anxious. He already has issues enough leaving people behind in _ Japan, _ much less in _ Puerto Princesa, _the place where he lost Kikuko fifteen years ago. But if there’s something that Kikuko wants them to see, Shuichi knows before Rantaro makes up his mind that he’s going to go after it.

“Stay put, okay?” Rantaro smiles thinly. “We’ll be back in a jiffy.”

“I do not doubt that,” Kiyo looks up, his eyes sparkling. Shuichi smiles a bit. He really has to appreciate Kiyo.

Rantaro hesitates for a moment longer, and then Shuichi slides his hand into his, and so he exhales, nodding. Shuichi drops the flower back where he found it, and the two of them hurry off down the trail.

\---

Hikaru kicked her legs off the side of the dock, watching Vinh chat with the person they were renting the rowboat from, an animated expression on her face. Technically, she was wasting time that they could’ve been spending rowing, but Hikaru didn’t really mind. She got to watch Vinh have a conversation with someone, see the way the glow from the sunlight and the yellow flowers dotting all the trees illuminated her expression, so Hikaru didn’t mind.

And yes, that was extremely gay, but in Hikaru’s defense: Vinh was radiant and she’d always been radiant but she’d been growing out her hair for the past five years, such that now it reached past the bottom of her back, and today she tied it out of her face in a high, swooshy ponytail, and… yeah. Hikaru was, extremely gay. She’d always been more partial to short hair (her own blonde hair was cut in what Vinh had brightly referred to as a demi garçon) but Vinh looked. Just, like, really good. So, yeah. Nice watching her talk.

After a while, she did end the conversation and then her gaze shifted over to Hikaru, who made eye contact with her and then felt her face heat up. Damn it. Caught staring. Vinh beamed though, padding over and reaching down a hand to help her to her feet.

“The water is really nice today, huh?” Vinh said brightly, pulling Hikaru to her feet. “It’s a good thing we packed swimsuits! I’ll row us out to the middle of the lake and then we can go swimming.”

“Yeah, how’re we gonna get back in the boat afterwards?” Hikaru asked, scoffing a bit, smiling anyway when Vinh intertwined their fingers. It gave her butterflies whenever Vinh did that, and over the last five years of staying with her and her family, those casual gestures were becoming more and more frequent. Not that Hikaru was complaining. She just, hoped that Vinh didn’t mean it as like, a sisterly thing. The two of them walked over to the boat they were renting, and Vinh helped Hikaru to sit down, holding on to the tip of it with her foot.

“Well, I think maybe we’ll do it in turns,” Vinh mused, getting in herself, adjusting the oars and then pushing them away from the dock. “Like, you’ll jump in and swim for a bit, and then I’ll pull you back in, and then I’ll jump in and swim for a bit, and pull myself in.”

HIkaru raised her eyebrows. “Oh, so I’m not pulling you back in?”

Shaking her head, Vinh replied, “Nope! I’m super strong and could throw you.” She gave a powerful stroke of the oars, as though to prove it, and they went shooting off into the middle of the lake. Hikaru laughed, startled, nearly falling out of the boat. As things were, she caught herself on the side, grinning over at Vinh, who gave her a slightly apologetic smile. “Oops, sorry.”

“Nothing to say sorry for,” Hikaru shrugged, as she literally could not have been any gayer than in that moment.

So Vinh rowed them out into the middle of the lake, and then she slowed them down until they were just drifting along at an easy pace. It was springtime, and all the trees around the lake were _ blossoming _with pretty yellow flowers, that drifted down onto the surface of the water and floated like lily pads. They reminded her of the cherry blossoms back home in Japan. Hikaru hummed, softly, and reached into the water, lifting one of the flowers out of it. She stared at it for a moment, and then reached over to tuck it behind Vinh’s ear.

“It’d look dumb in my hair,” Hikaru explained, in response to Vinh’s slightly bewildered, slightly flustered look. “Since I’m blonde, and all. But it brings out your eyes.”

Vinh gazed at her for a moment, a light dusting of pink across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and then covered her mouth with a hand, as though she was thinking. Her gaze was heavy, and yet Hikaru couldn’t bring herself to pull her eyes away. They drifted along in silence for another moment, and then Vinh lowered her hand and blurted, “I like you, Hikaru.”

“Huh?” Hikaru blinked, startled by the admission. “What, like, because we’re friends?”

“Well, yeah, duh, but I meant,” Vinh’s cheeks darkened. “Like, I _ like _you. Like I think you’re pretty and smart and you make me feel, ahhhh I dunno, braver? I guess? Like you just say what you’re thinking, you don’t filter anything, and I think that’s just really cool.”

_ Well, no, I do filter, _ Hikaru thought. _ I just filter out the nice stuff. _She filtered that out, though. “I…” her throat felt dry. She lifted her gaze and met Vinh’s brown eyes, wondering how best to figure out what she was thinking. Her heart was pounding almost comically hard in her chest.

The thing was, Hikaru liked Vinh back. She liked her a lot. She’d been crushing on her for five years, pretty much. She was just, she was really pretty. And kind. And smart and her energy for things was contagious. Sometimes Vinh would go on rants about biology, and her passion was always… so nice to witness. Yeah. Hikaru definitely felt the same way. She just wasn’t sure how to articulate it verbally.

“Uh,” Hikaru said, intelligently. “I like you too.”

There was a beat, and then Vinh beamed at her, her eyes lighting up, and Hikaru’s heart fluttered, warming in her chest. That was a _ good _feeling. It was an even better feeling when Vinh reached out and intertwined their fingers for a moment, and her fingers were rough and callused from the oars. Warm in HIkaru’s.

It was a day that, maybe, she should’ve been spending in the marketplace, waiting for her family to come get her. But it was hard to focus on that, or care about her family at all, with Vinh smiling at her in that way.

\---

Shuichi is reminded of Hansel and Gretel. Somewhat. At least in that they’re following a trail of flowers into the woods. Of course, there’s a path here, so it’s not _ quite _the same, but they sure are using the trail to find something. Shuichi just wishes he knew what that was.

The pace that he and Rantaro are going at is so quick it’s almost unsustainable. The trail is mostly level, from all the people who have walked on it over the years, but there are still roots and the like, just like the one that tripped Shuichi this morning. Still, though, Shuichi wouldn’t dare ask that they slow down. What if Kikuko is at the end of this trail? What if she’s injured? If that’s the case, then they need to get there as quickly as possible, so that they can--

“Shuichi, stop,” Rantaro breathes out, throwing his arm over in front of Shuichi, effectively stopping him from going any further. Shuichi stops, his feet skidding across the dirt, and nearly asks why Rantaro asked him to, but then he gazes ahead at the trail, and his breath catches in his throat.

There’s… another body, it seems. Another unconscious person. Shuichi and Rantaro are too far away to judge who it is. Beyond that, though, there’s someone else sitting in the clearing. A little girl, it seems. She’s sitting upright on a log, her legs folded and her hands clasped in her lap. When she looks over at them, her brows pinch together, a frown appearing on her expression, and then Rantaro is moving, running over and dropping down to his knees in front of her.

_ She’s not his sister, _ Shuichi thinks, _ but instincts are instincts. _He walks over as well, and when he reaches them, he hears his boyfriend speaking to the little girl in a hushed, gentle voice.

“Hey,” he says in English. He lifts his hands, as though he’d like to touch her, but doesn’t rest them. “Can you understand me?”

The little girl, who has messy brown hair and wide, inquisitive blue eyes, gives him an appraising look. “Yeah,” she says, also in English, and nods. She sounds very slightly scared, but she doesn’t seem to be apprehensive of Rantaro. If anything she seems expectant. “I can.”

“Okay, good,” Rantaro seems to take a breath, smiling gently. “My name’s Rantaro, this is my friend Shuichi.”

“I know,” says the little girl. “The girl with the flowers told me.”

Rantaro blinks. “Huh?”

“Yeah, the girl with the flowers,” the little girl lifts and opens her hands, revealing a white chrysanthemum clutched between them. “See?” When Shuichi looks closer, he sees red splatter on the plant. “She said, _ a man with green hair like mine named Rantaro and his friend named Shuichi are gonna come and help you, so just wait here and hold this flower.” _The little girl nods. “Is she your sister? She looks like you.”

It seems like Rantaro doesn’t really know how to respond to that. He opens and closes his mouth. Shuichi squeezes his shoulder. “Yeah,” Rantaro says after a moment. “She is my sister. I haven’t seen her in a very long time, though.” He smiles slightly, sadly, and Shuichi squeezes his shoulder again. “Okay. Did she tell you anything else?”

The little girl thinks about it. “Yeah, she said it’s gonna be okay. And she said I had to look away for a bit after she knocked out her friend,” she points at the unconscious person, “because she was gonna do something scary. There was a loud noise and then she was bleeding a lot from her leg. I think she gave herself a booboo.” The little girl frowns. “But she said she’ll be okay, ‘s long as she gets home. Which is where she was going.”

“Right,” Rantaro breathes out. His expression is tight. It’s only because Shuichi’s known him so long that he knows he’s upset. And the reason is pretty obvious; Kikuko shot herself in the leg, for… some reason.

Ah, speaking of what Kikuko did… Shuichi looks down at the unconscious person, and then eventually steps away to kneel beside them. It’s another man, it seems, but-- well, younger than Shuichi. Perhaps around Kikuko’s age. His hair is dyed platinum blonde, with dark brown roots. He’s clearly Filipino. Perhaps he lives in this area.

...Lived, in this area, if he was working with Kikuko. There are weapons, all over his lower body, except for the gun holster at his waist, which is empty, presumably on Kikuko’s behalf. Shuichi hums, reaching out and taking his pulse. He’s alive. There’s a knot on his forehead, but otherwise he doesn’t appear to be hurt anywhere. Kikuko must have hit him in the head with the barrel of her gun. It must’ve been her that did it to the man back there. Shuichi furrows his brow, and then reaches out to lift the boy, tucking his head onto his shoulder so that it won’t be jerking around while they go.

“Uhm,” Shuichi looks over at the little girl. “Did… did the girl with green hair leave any other flowers behind?”

“Nope,” the little girl shakes her head. “This was her last flower. She said to give it to you,” she looks at Rantaro. “And she said…” she wrinkles her brow. “That you need to be more careful, ‘cause she can’t keep doing this, and she said she’s sorry.”

“Ah,” Rantaro pauses, and Shuichi straightens up, looking over at him. His expression is difficult to read. “Right. Yeah. Yup. She got a point.” He exhales, and then gets to his feet, offering the little girl a hand. “Can you walk okay? The slope is kinda steep.”

“Mmm, I’m fine,” the little girl says, popping up onto her feet. She smiles. “I can walk really good!”

Rantaro laughs quietly. “Yeah, I bet you can.” He turns to look at Shuichi, who nods, and then the three of them (as well as the unconscious boy) start on the way back to Kiyo.

\---

It was around four in the morning when Hikaru was woken up in a cold sweat with tears in her eyes. The tears were stupid, though, so she wiped them away. And then more formed. Ugh.

She slipped out of bed, trying to be careful not to wake Vinh, and padded silently out into the kitchen. The light was off, but after living in this apartment for six, almost seven years, Hikaru knew her way around. She found her way to the sink and filled herself a glass of cold water, tipping it back into her mouth. Then she wandered over to the window and slipped behind the curtains, gazing out at the lake, the way the red lights of the city bounced off and made the water glow.

...She missed her sisters.

Seven years was a very long time to go without seeing her family. Hikaru tapped her fingers on the glass, pretending that someone was standing just outside the window, putting their hand up to meet hers. Her anger towards Mina, Koharu, and Kei had all but dissipated. Her chest ached whenever she thought about Mahoko and Satsuki, Tsubaki and Kasumi and Maemi and Rui and Aki and Kikuko, all lost in different parts of the world, all… forgotten. Like her.

The only anger that really remained was pointed towards her parents. Her step-father and her mother, every single other person who decided it was a-okay to leave her sisters in other countries. Every single other person who kept _ fucking moving, _ despite the fact that they were losing people one by one, like some kind of twisted countdown. Hikaru felt nauseous thinking about it, felt every hair on her body raising whenever Vinh’s parents talked about her getting a husband and having children, if only because the mere _ thought _of putting herself in a position where she could repeat her parents’ mistakes made her feel sick to her stomach. Nevermind the fact that she was a lesbian.

More than all of that she was angry at herself. For getting lost. For being mean to Koharu and Kei and Mina. For being angry and spiteful and rude for no real reason, other than the fact that she was hurt. She was allowed to be hurt! What wasn’t fair was the fact that she made everyone else miserable over it. As if Mina didn’t miss her sisters! As if Kei and Koharu didn’t hate themselves for what happened when they were sneaking out…

And Hikaru was a coward, too, a coward who was afraid of being blamed for her mistakes. Even after seven years she never told Vinh a thing. Vinh knew all sorts of stories about Rantaro and Satsuki and none about anybody else. How could she tell her? It was too painful. And what if Vinh blamed her too? It was her _ fault _she got lost, and she treated them all so terribly… what if Vinh decided she didn’t like her anymore?

Vinh deserved to know. She was kind and compassionate, and she put a roof over Hikaru’s head, and she _ loved _Hikaru. She was deeply good. She deserved an explanation.

But Hikaru was so afraid of her reaction. She exhaled, leaning her head against the glass.

She could wait a little while longer.

\---

The little girl’s name is Elizabeth. She tells them to call her Lizzy, though, so that’s what Rantaro does, holding her hand as they walk down the hill. Shuichi listens to them talk, but he doesn’t _ really _listen. Instead he focuses on not tripping and falling down the hill while carrying the unconscious boy, and mulls over Kikuko’s possible motivations in his head.

So, to begin with. The encounter this morning. Kikuko clearly wasn’t there to kill Shuichi. She was there to get his attention. Perhaps even to lead him after her then, but if _ that _was her intention, then she ran way too fast. No, it was likely to tell him and Rantaro that she was there. The gun in her hand… well, Shuichi doesn’t really know what to say about that. Perhaps she just, had it out. Who knows.

The man on the trail. Elizabeth’s father, according to her description of him. They were ambushed while they were hiking, by Kikuko and her friend here; the boy shot Elizabeth’s father, and Kikuko scooped Elizabeth off the ground. She proceeded to slam Elizabeth’s father in the head with the barrel of her gun, which made her friend angry, and prompted him to yell at her. They turned and started walking, after Kikuko placed a white flower on his body. She dropped them as they walked down the trail. And then when they reached a clearing, she put Elizabeth down, darted over to her friend, and slammed him in the head.

Shot herself. Gave Elizabeth a flower. Left.

What Shuichi can’t wrap his head around is the fact that Kikuko… shot herself. Why would she do that? What would the reason be? How would it benefit her to shoot herself? If anything it would make it harder for her to get away. Clearly she was trying to protect Elizabeth and her father; that’s why she led Rantaro and Shuichi to them, knowing that they’d help, knowing that they’d get Elizabeth and her father out of danger. But why…

Ah, there’s Kiyo. He’s sitting propped up against a tree trunk, talking idly to Elizabeth’s father. For a moment Shuichi thinks that the man is awake, but… no, he’s unconscious.

Kiyo is just, weird.

“Oh, you brought guests,” Kiyo says lightly, smiling.

“Hey, yeah, new friends,” Rantaro grins. “Kiyo, this is Elizabeth, Elizabeth, this is Kiyo. He patched up your dad.”

“Cool,” says Elizabeth. She plops herself down next to her unconscious father. If she’s worried, she doesn’t show it. Maybe it hasn’t settled in to her yet, that her father’s life was in danger. Or maybe she’ll never realise at all. She’s rather young. Shuichi lays down Kikuko’s companion on the ground, humming.

“Kiyo, I’m going to go set off a flare,” Shuichi says, looking at him. “I don’t think that we’ll be able to take all three of these guys down to the beach and load them on the sailboat. Can you look him over?”

“Oh, actually,” Rantaro drops down to his knees by his backpack, then pulls out his satellite phone, handing it over to Shuichi. “Call Mikan? She works with Mukuro and Kyoko,” he clears his throat. “So she’ll be able to help us a bit better.”

Mikan… Tsumiki. Ultimate Nurse, upperclassmen of theirs back at Hope’s Peak Academy. Shuichi nods. “Ah, what’s her phone number?”

Rantaro grins. “What, you don’t have it memorised?” he asks, pulling a pen out of his backpack and reaching out and taking Shuichi’s hand to write a phone number on the inside of his wrist.

“I will disarm him, as well,” Kiyo says distastefully, looking the unconscious boy over. “It would be bad if he woke up and killed all five of us, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, no, that’s…” Rantaro looks over at Kiyo, his brow furrowing. “Not ideal, huh?” He chuckles. “Pretty sure Maki could obliterate us all in one, and if he’s anything like her…”

“She could,” Shuichi agrees, putting Mikan’s number into the phone. “Alright, ah, I need some quiet for a moment so I can make the phone call.”

Rantaro and Kiyo oblige. Shuichi inhales, and then he puts the phone to his ear.

\---

The apartment that Vinh and Hikaru moved into when they were eighteen had one bedroom and a kitchen that also served as a living room. They had one, threadbare couch that they found at a garage sale, and a view overlooking a busy intersection. Nothing like the scenic lake view of Vinh’s parents’ house.

It was nice.

Vinh pressed a bunch of yellow flower petals and then arranged them into a wreath, hanging them up on the door. The house always smelled like jasmine tea, Vinh’s favourite, and they had matching indoor slippers. More importantly, they could lie down on the couch sharing sloppy kisses all morning rather than having to sneak them late at night, in the privacy of Vinh’s bedroom.

Hikaru was happy.

And she also missed Japan. She missed it so, so much. And she missed her sisters and her brother and her parents. She missed hearing Japanese from people who could speak it, not just Vinh with her very limited (but appreciated) attempts at greeting her around the house. She missed having a full family and being with the people she loved, more than one of them. Vinh was her best friend and her lover and she wished she could have her family back too.

She felt selfish feeling this way, after everything Vinh had done for her, what with the wonderful relationship they had, and they life they were building. Not to mention that she never even _ told _Vinh about her family. Never talked about it. Never said a word.

A year passed of them living together. And then two. Three, four, five. Suddenly they were twenty three years old and Hikaru hadn’t breathed a word of it. She couldn’t bear it. Vinh always told her about how honest of a person she was, and there she was keeping that huge secret. It was unsustainable. She couldn’t do it anymore.

She had to tell her.

\---

It’s midnight in Japan when they finally return to their apartment. As Shuichi locks the door behind them, he listens to the light padding sounds of Rantaro walking through the space, and then a soft thump as he falls into the couch. Shuichi thinks that’s pretty fair. He hangs his keys up by the door and turns around, crossing through the room until he reaches the couch.

Then he sits down on the coffee table, in front of Rantaro, who’s got his face covered with both hands and his head bowed so that messy green curls obscure what _ is _uncovered. Shuichi exhales, long and slow, and then puts out his hands, extending them to his boyfriend.

After a moment of silence, Rantaro reaches out and takes them, slumping down further. His grip is almost painfully tight.

“I’m sure she’s alright,” Shuichi offers, quietly.

“Maybe,” Rantaro returns. His voice is soft and thick and rough, and Shuichi knows he doesn’t really mean it. Doesn’t really believe him. Shuichi squeezes his hands. “I just… it takes… resolve.”

“What does?” Shuichi probes gently.

“Hurting yourself,” Rantaro looks up, and then he winces. Neither of them look down, but Shuichi knows that both of their thoughts shoot straight to the countless, thin scars that line his forearms, the spattering of reminders covering the inside of his thighs. “Sorry-- I wasn’t thinking about--”

“It’s alright,” Shuichi says. It _ is _alright. He hasn’t thought about it in years. “You’re right, anyway. It takes resolve to do so deliberately when it isn’t a compulsion.” He squeezes Rantaro’s hands, firm and steady, to let him know that it’s really okay. “Keep talking.”

“Uhm,” Rantaro clears his throat, looking wildly guilty still. “Well, it… y’know. She shot herself in the leg. How many people can lift a gun and point it at themself and just. Pull the trigger? Your brain puts all these blocks in place, like, trying to get you to _ not _ do that. And she just,” he swallows, looking nauseous. “She just _ did _it.”

“Mhm,” Shuichi knows where he’s going with this, but he doesn’t say anything. He just runs his thumbs over Rantaro’s knuckles in what he hopes is a soothing gesture.

“What happened to her?” Rantaro breathes out. He brings Shuichi’s hands to his face and hangs his head again, resting his forehead against Shuichi’s fingers. “How could she-- I don’t even--” his voice breaks and his breath hitches, and Shuichi sees the exact moment that his shoulders start shaking, feels the warm wetness of tears spilling over his fingertips. “I let this happen to her.”

“No, you didn’t,” Shuichi shakes his head, pushing himself off the coffee maker and then down onto his knees, pulling his hands from Rantaro’s so he can shift them to cup either sides of his face, lifting his head so they can make eye contact. “You didn’t. It wasn’t your fault.”

Rantaro huffs out a bitter laugh. Even after eleven years, Rantaro still refuses to budge on that point. Determined to claim responsibility for every tragedy, every mistake. Shuichi brings his face down so that their foreheads touch, watches Rantaro close his eyes. More tears spill down, and Shuichi gets slightly cross-eyed watching them fall. “Who knows what she’s been going through over the past fifteen years?” Rantaro’s voice shakes. “And she was so _ close--” _

She was. She _ was _so close. She was only a yard or two away from Shuichi less than two days ago. She was so, so close, and yet she’s not here right now. Shuichi swallows down a guilty lump in his throat, opens his mouth. “I’m sorry. If I had been faster--”

_ “No,” _Rantaro cuts him off, abruptly, moving forward and dropping down onto his knees as well, wrapping his arms around Shuichi in a tight embrace. “No, you couldn’t have caught her so there’s no point even thinking about it. It’s not your fault.” He squeezes Shuichi a little tighter, shuddering. “I can’t take the idea that I could’ve lost you too.”

Shuichi releases a breath, bringing his arms around Rantaro’s shoulders, hugging him tight. Objectively, he’s correct. And blaming himself doesn’t fix anything. But he feels guilty regardless. Mmm.

“I just--” Rantaro’s breath hitches again. “She was… she was _ there, _and I--” he lets out a soft whimper, tucking his face into Shuichi’s neck. “I couldn’t--”

“I know,” Shuichi whispers. He brings one of his hands to cup the back of Rantaro’s head. “I know, it--” he bites his lip. “I’m sorry. We’ll get her home. We will.”

Rantaro’s response is a quiet laugh, and then an even quieter sob. After a moment, presumably to compose himself, he says, “I really hope so, Shuichi, I-- I really just want to hold her.”

Yeah. Shuichi wants to bring her home, too. He kisses Rantaro on the side of the head, murmurs an assurance, and lets the moment blur with Rantaro’s tears, as well as a couple of his own.

\---

Vinh watched ripples go through her tea every time she flicked the cup. They had been sitting there long enough that her tea was entirely cold, and a bit unpleasant. Drinking jasmine tea after it cooled was never Vinh’s favourite thing. But she would finish her cup, anyway, because she liked it at any temperature. For that moment, though, she was focusing on it instead of her laptop screen, because she didn’t know what to write.

_ Dear Rantaro Amami, _

Should she even start the email like that? Was that weird? Maybe she should do Japanese name order.

_ Dear Amami Rantaro, _

It just, it felt so formal?

_ Amami Rantaro, _

Mmmmmmmmm.

_ Hi! I’m Vinh, _

Okay, not bad. Not bad at all. But maybe a small edit.

_ Hi! My name is Vinh. I hear you’re looking for your sisters around the world, as they went missing. _

Ahh, no. Too much detail. Hikaru’s brother would probably just close the email and walk away.

_ I hear you’re looking for your lost sisters. I know that’s a bit creepy! _

Absolutely not.

_ I don’t mean to call you out over email or anything, _

Okay, like, Vinh didn’t _ know _he was gay. She couldn’t just say that.

_ Sorry to put it so bluntly, I have social anxiety. _

Hm.

_ Sorry to put it so bluntly, haha! Anyway, you lost your sister Hikaru in my home, Ho Chi Minh City, twelve years ago. I assume you’ve been looking for her. That’s why I’m emailing you, actually, because your sister has been living with me for the past twelve years that she’s been here. She’s also my girlfriend. _

...well, might as well keep it. He was going to find out eventually.

_ She doesn’t know I’m writing this email. She’ll be angry at me when she finds out. She only just told me about your other sisters and your situation a week ago! But she wants to go home, I know it. She just blames herself for getting lost, and doesn’t think she deserves to go back with you. _

Was that too much? Vinh felt like Hikaru’s brother would feel bad, reading that. Guilty. She didn’t want him to feel guilty, not when Hikaru was already feeling guilty, not when neither of them should have been feeling guilty about what happened. Ugh. Ugh! People who blamed themselves for everything were the worst. Damn these Amamis and their stupid self deprecation. (Hikaru was wearing off on her.)

_ So, yeah. We’re in Ho Chi Minh City, and I can send you my exact address if you want. I just want you to know your sister is okay, and she’s been fine, and if you want to come pick her up, then you can. Please do. She misses you so much. She cried when she told me everything. _

Vinh whispered, “Please don’t kick my ass for this, Hikaru.”

_ I’m attaching some pictures of her over the years. I hope you’re doing well. _

She hoped he would come. She hoped Hikaru wouldn’t hate her.

_ -Vinh _

\---

Shuichi is making pork tonkatsu for dinner when Rantaro comes running into the kitchen, nearly slipping and falling on his face on the tile. He flips around, startled, and widens his eyes at the breathless grin on his boyfriend’s face.

“Rantaro?” Shuichi asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I just got an email,” Rantaro breathes out, resting a hand on the fridge, steadying himself. “From a girl named Vinh who lives in Vietnam. She said that Hikaru’s been staying with her for the past decade,” he takes a moment to catch his breath. “She asked that we-- well, I, but we-- fly in and pick her up.” Rantaro pauses. “Maybe both of them? She said they’re going out. _ Anyway, _I haven’t replied yet, but I’m gonna make plans. How soon can you go? I know you have some cases on the table with your uncle and I don’t wanna--”

“We can go first thing tomorrow,” Shuichi says, smiling slightly, after he’s gone over all of Rantaro’s words in his head a second time. “I don’t have any particularly urgent cases right now. Besides, Hikaru is arguably more important than an adultery case.”

Rantaro nods, quickly, vibrating a bit on the spot as he types something out on his phone. When he looks up at Shuichi, his eyes are full of tears, and a shaky smile spreads across his expression. “She-- being Vinh-- send pictures. Of Hikaru. She--” he laughs, watery and loud and full. “She’s okay, she’s-- god,” he shakes his head. Shuichi feels his chest give a tight squeeze. “I’m… she said Hikaru’s gonna be mad at her for sending the email. That’s my sister.”

Thank god. Hearing Rantaro cry like he did yesterday was heartbreaking. Shuichi smiles, softly, and just takes a moment to soak in his boyfriend’s happiness. Okay. They’re going to go get Hikaru. Alright. Shuichi lets out a quiet laugh and turns back to the counter to keep working on their dinner.

\---

“You _ what?” _Hikaru sputtered. Her heart was racing and her face suddenly felt incredibly hot. It was something that very rarely happened to her when Vinh was around. But there she was, her throat closing up, her expression twisting.

“I emailed your brother,” Vinh replied calmly. “And he’s flying in tomorrow.”

“He--” Hikaru choked on her words. “Tomorrow? I--”

“I know you blame yourself for getting lost,” Vinh said. “But you deserve to go home and see your family again. He’s found a lot of your sisters, y’know? Uh, who did he say,” she looked down at her phone. “Mina, Kei, Aki, Maemi, Kasumi, Tsubaki, and Mahoko.” She looked back up at Hikaru. “Anyway, it wasn’t your fault. And it’s sad to think about the idea that you’d just be sitting here for twelve years and not trying to go home when you deserve to.”

Hikaru stammered for a moment, trying to figure out a good response. “I haven’t been sitting here for twelve years!” she protested. “I’ve been waiting for my family to come and get me!”

“You barely go to the market anymore,” Vinh pointed out. “And your father’s email is in the public domain.”

“My step-father,” Hikaru corrected sharply. Vinh gave her an apologetic look, and she felt some of the anger dissolving, her expression softening. She didn’t _ want _it to; she wanted to be angry! But this was Vinh, this was her girlfriend Vinh who took her in twelve years ago and just wrote an email to her brother because she wanted Hikaru to be able to see her family again. Plus, she… mmm. Being angry was tiresome.

And in reality she wasn’t that angry about it. That Vinh had emailed. She was… well, she just-- she wanted to see her brother again. And her sisters. (Mina and Kei got lost, huh? They had to have, if Rantaro found them. And he found Aki and Mahoko and Kasumi and Tsubaki and Maemi… it made Hikaru want to cry a little bit.)

Despite this, she still found herself mumbling, “You could’ve let me email him myself.”

Vinh gave her an odd look. “Would you have emailed him?”

...Hikaru opened and closed her mouth. “I…” no, she wouldn’t have. She wouldn’t have emailed him. Vinh was right. She didn’t think she deserved to go back. It was her fault for getting lost in the first place.

But Vinh didn’t think so. Vinh wanted her to go home. And Rantaro was coming for her regardless. A painful lump formed in her throat. Hikaru inhaled and stepped forward, throwing her arms around her girlfriend. Vinh caught her with a surprised noise, holding her tight around the middle, and Hikaru tucked her face into her neck. Breathed in deep.

“You better come with me,” Hikaru mumbled. “We’re gonna go to Japan together and you’re gonna become a doctor and we’re gonna go somewhere where gay marriage is legal and be wives. Okay?”

Vinh laughed softly. Her fingers ran through Hikaru’s hair. “Yeah, okay. We will. You’ll need to teach me better Japanese, though. I had to write the email in English because I wasn’t sure.”

“Rantaro is fluent,” Hikaru assured. She released a breath. She was gonna go home. “Thank you, Vinh. I’m… sorry for getting mad.”

“Knew you would,” Vinh hummed. “It’s okay. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.”

Mmm. That felt really nice to hear.

\---

The airport is awfully congested. Shuichi keeps a tight grip on Rantaro’s hand as they make their way through, over to the luggage pickup. Really it’s Shuichi who is leading the way; Rantaro is looking down at his phone, texting somebody (presumably Vinh, Hikaru’s girlfriend) to let her know they’re off the plane, and where they’re picking up their stuff.

Shuichi saw the pictures of Hikaru that Vinh sent. In the most recent one, her blonde hair is cut short, and she’s grinning at the camera with wide, electric grey eyes. Hikaru would’ve turned twenty three this year, making her three years younger than Rantaro and Shuichi. Making this the twelfth year they spent apart. 

...No longer, though. When they get within a couple yards of the luggage pickup area, Rantaro releases Shuichi’s hand and takes off, and there’s only one real reason why he’d be doing that. Shuichi feels a smile spreading over his face. By the time Shuichi catches up to them, Rantaro is holding a woman with a mess of blonde hair in his arms, and they’re both crying, and it’s… mmm. Yeah. There’s another woman standing by, with incredibly long brown hair, who Shuichi assumes is Vinh, and they smile awkwardly at one another when they make eye contact.

They’re taking her home. Shuichi lets the warmth of the moment sink in for a bit, and pretends like this is all that there is, standing at the crowded airport and listening to Rantaro and Hikaru whisper to each other in choked voices.

(It’s hard not to think about Kikuko, though. Shuichi looks up at the light fixtures on the ceiling of the airport and furrows his brow. They’re gonna take her home too, just watch.)

\---

Hikaru was ready to go home. She was ready to go home to Japan and fall into her childhood bed and _ relax, _just, be there with her family for a while, exactly the way they should’ve done.

And then someday she and Vinh were going to go to Europe and get married. It would be another stupid, risky trip, when thus far in her life they had never served her particularly well, but… fuck it. Hikaru had a hard time believing anything was cursed when she was with Vinh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is!!! the hikaru chapter!!!! hope u appreciated her salt i sure did ;;;;
> 
> also, if there was ever any doubt that kikuko is the chrysanthemum killer. well. here's ur answer.
> 
> stay funky. sorry that this is a couple days late. it be like that sometimes.

**Author's Note:**

> the content of this story will get heavier as time goes on. read with caution.


End file.
